Drabbles & Shorts
by DaronwyK
Summary: Assorted Drabbles & Short Stories written for House Points Competition Year One & Year Two. Representing Slytherin House. Various themes & Pairings
1. Secrets & Dark Shores

A/N: Entry for the Bonus Round of the House Competition. Drabble Prompt 'The Black Lake'. Non-Canon Compliant

ooOoo

Severus was scouring the grounds, part of the many search parties out looking for wounded and the dead. The battle had spanned days and covered large areas of the grounds. There were many still unaccounted for, one that worried him the most was Hermione Granger. The last anyone could remember seeing of her she had taken off after Antonin Dolohov. While Potter and Weasley were still holding out hope that she was alive, Severus doubted it. His feet took him along the edge of the Black Lake, the water lapping gently at the shore. His steps picked up speed as he spotted something. There was a body in the water, not yet claimed by the Giant Squid. He made a quick motion and the body was dragged up onto the stones.

He was looking down at the lifeless form of Antonin Dolohov, a look of shock forever etched into his now bloated features. Severus let his eyes travel to an outcropping of rock, one he'd hidden in many times as a student. There tucked into a dark crevice, soaking wet and shaking with cold, was Hermione Granger. Severus approached slowly and crouched down offering her a hand. "Miss Granger." He said, and saw no recognition of his presence on her face. Her eyes were staring past him at the water. "Hermione." He said a bit softer.

"Professor?" She whispered, her eyes shifting to him.

"Take my hand, your friends are looking for you." He said.

"I can't…." She whispered.

"Yes, you can." He insisted, and when she tentatively slipped her hand into his he gave her freezing cold hand a squeeze and pulled her out. He cast a drying charm and then slipped off his outer robes and wrapped them around her. "You have to keep moving forward. He earned his death, a thousand times over."

"But I used…"

"A stunner. He fell into the lake and drowned. Do you understand?" He gripped her shoulder hard. "This is one secret you can never share." He knew now why she was in shock. Using the Killing Curse for the first time was a shock to the system, a first deep dive into the Dark Arts. "I can help you deal with the after effects, but for now you need to smile and celebrate with your friends like nothing happened."

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath, trying to pull her Gryffindor courage up around herself. "I can do that." She whispered as her Potions Master turned her away from the Black Lake and the body of Antonin Dolohov, leaving them behind as they turned back towards the Castle.

~Fin~


	2. The Best Revenge

**A/N: Short Story For the House Points Competition, Practice Round.**

 **Prompt: 10. "You Make Me Sick."**

ooOoo

Logically she'd known all along that there was something not right. Late nights at the office, last minute trips away that always seemed to be over the weekends. The way he'd snap at her anytime she'd try and ask for details. Then he'd started talking about her quitting her job at the Ministry after the wedding. They were going to have a family and she needed to be at home. The sharp cutting remarks whenever she'd correct him in front of their friends. She never meant to make him look stupid, but he always took it that way.

Tonight he'd crossed the line. They'd been out to dinner with friends and he'd started spinning a grand tale about one of their many adventures at school. Like he always did he tended to embellish his role and Harry would roll his eyes and she'd correct him, reminding him of the actual events rather than his rosey recollection. He'd given her a dark look but said nothing. As they got home the storm that had been brewing all through dinner broke.

"Why do you always do that!" He shouted.

"What? You were laid up in the Hospital Wing that night, you never used the Time Turner with Harry and me." She looked stunned.

"They didn't know that! You always make me look stupid in front of everyone! I have to work with those people Hermione!" He raged. The argument got even more heated, louder. Ron got right in her face and she shoved him away. Then he hit her.

Time seemed to stop as she staggered back and on pure instinct she drew her wand. The whole night flashing before her eyes as she tried to process how they'd ended up here. Everything cleared and her eyes narrowed. "Get the hell out. We're done."

"Come on Hermione, you know I didn't mean it." Ron said, raising his hands a bit. "I'm sorry. Please don't do this to us."

"*YOU* did this to us….YOU!" She gripped her wand firmly. "Get out before I hex you to oblivion and back." She hated that she wanted to forgive him, drop her wand and let him hold her. She refused to do it. She wasn't going to one of those women who let a man hit them and stuck around for more.

He backed away and then apparated out of their flat without another word.

She went to the bedroom and started packing her things. She just grabbed some clothes, her books, and some personal things she didn't want to risk him destroying in temper. She'd come back later with Harry or Ginny to get the rest. She shrunk the suitcase down and slipped it into her pocket. She wiped at the tears on her face angrily and apparated away, landing outside the White Wyvern. It was a bar in Knockturn Alley, but the mood she was in she didn't want to run into anyone she knew.

She headed inside and sat down at the bar, feeling the heat in her cheek where Ron had hit her.

"What'll it be doll?" The bartender came over.

"Ogden's Old, straight up." She said.

His eyebrows raised but he poured it for her. "Some idiot lay his hands on you honey?" he asked, seeing her cheek.

"My boyfriend." She said quietly. "Ex-boyfriend now." Her tone picked up a bit of steely determination.

"Good for you honey. Any wizard that hits his witch, doesn't deserve to have her." He smiled and topped her drink up for her before going to see to his other patrons. She stared into the dark amber liquid and took another long sip, the burning warmth dulling the pain a little.

"Never thought I'd see you in a place like this." A voice came from beside her. It was all too familiar. She turned her head to see Draco Malfoy sitting beside her.

"I could say the same about you, a little low rent for you isn't it?" She returned with a lazy drawl, adopted from the wizard beside her.

Draco laughed and then stopped. "Shit Granger." He moved back her curls and saw the bruise starting to come up. "Fucking Weaslebee. Tell me you hexed his balls off." He looked utterly furious.

"Why do you even care Malfoy, it's not like we're friends." She leaned back, letting her hair fall back over her cheek. It was the first time in her life she was grateful for the out of control curls.

"Because you're worth ten of that disgrace. He has no right to lay a hand on you like some filthy muggle." He all but spat. "At least tell me you're done with him."

She nodded. "Very done." She said quietly, still not sure what to make of Draco.

"Then let's drink to you finally coming to your senses." Draco smiled and signalled the bartender for another round.

Hermione threw back what was left of her drink and gladly took another. She lifted her glass, saluting Draco. "To freedom."

He touched his glass to hers. "I can drink to that."

ooOoo

Hermione woke up, light spearing into her eyes. She turned away from the offending illumination and bumped into another body. A very naked other body. Said naked body mumbled, and wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She nearly died of mortification as she felt something wet and sticky between her thighs. Oh dear sweet Merlin, what had she done? She tried to remember the night before and her cheeks began to burn as bits and pieces came back to her.

 _Draco pressed her against the rough brick outside the bar, lips on hers hot and demanding. He tasted like whiskey, and his tongue coaxed hers into a dance. She realized in a flash that she'd never been kissed like this before. Ron's kisses had been bumbling and sloppy, this was a duel with each of them fighting for dominance._

" _Merlin Granger…" He dragged his lips down her throat. "You taste so fucking good." He whispered into her ear, teeth nipping her earlobe._

" _What the bloody hell are we doing? I disgust you, remember….oh yes…and you make me sick…" She muttered between moans as he found the sensitive spots on her neck._

" _Maybe I do, but you're still coming home with me." He grinned cockily at her before kissing her deeply again._

Hermione sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She'd slept with Malfoy. She snuck a look back at him, grateful that he seemed to be sleeping still. She let her eyes wander, taking in the long lean lines of his body with a fair bit of pleasure. He clearly kept himself very fit. She was about to reach out and touch his chest when the door flew open and she made a mad grab for the sheets.

Standing there in the doorway gaping at her was Blaise Zabini. "Merlin's hairy ballsack…Granger?!" He said, looking at her like she had six heads and breathed fire.

"Get the fuck out Blaise!" Draco threw a pillow at him. "And make some coffee!" He added as his flatmate beat a hasty retreat. "Sorry about that, he wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow." Draco groaned and sat up.

"Umm….where are my clothes?" Hermione asked, not actually spotting any of her clothing in the bedroom.

"Fuck, I think we left everything in the living room." He sat up and kissed her shoulder. "Bathroom's through there, there's towels and you can borrow my robe. I'll round up your clothes and find your wand. What do you take in your coffee?" He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans.

"Cream and sugar." She said, trying very hard not to stare at him.

Draco chuckled and left her sitting in his bed. He shut the door behind him.

Hermione got out of the bed slowly and groaned at the very distinct soreness. She went into the bathroom and got the shower going. She didn't linger any longer than necessary, wanting to get her clothes and beat a hasty retreat. She dried off, blushing a bit at the finger shaped bruises on her hips. Even with what little she could remember, it had been without a doubt the best sex she'd ever had. A bitchy part of herself felt like telling Ron that the next time she saw him. With that thought firmly in mind, and a resultant smirk on her lips she headed out of the bedroom to face the two flatmates.

Draco was nursing a cup of coffee, and he slid another mug down the counter. Blaise was thankfully nowhere to be seen. "Thanks." She said and took a sip of the coffee.

"No problem. Blaise figured if you were getting your wand back, he didn't want to be in range." Draco chuckled and then sobered a bit. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, a bit sore…but I'm not going to dissolve into tears on you. Good to know all those rumours back at school were based in fact." She winked at him, not having a clue what had gotten into her this morning.

Draco started laughing. "I didn't know you paid attention to gossip Granger." He leaned back against the counter.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." She said simply and sat down her mug, going over and giving Draco a kiss. She felt him wrap his arms around her as she gave him a proper good morning snog. She pulled back and smiled. "Maybe sometime you can learn more."

Draco nodded. "Though maybe next time I should buy you dinner first." There was a cautious tone to his words, and he held himself very still as if waiting for rejection.

"Maybe you should." Hermione nodded. "I'm quite partial to French cuisine." She told him before turning away to scoop up her clothes and wand. She needed to get to Grimmauld Place before Harry sent out the search parties. "Owl me." She said and then very saucily disapparated out of his kitchen, still wearing his robe.

"Pick up your jaw Draco, it's not a good look on you." Blaise came out of his bedroom smirking at his friend's expression of shock.

"Fuck you Blaise." Draco snapped, grabbing his coffee to go and hide in his room.

"Naw, I think Granger's got the new monopoly on that." Blaise's laughter chased Draco out of the kitchen.

~fin~


	3. Foolish Girl

**A/N: Themed Entry for the House Points Competition Bonus Round. The Theme is 'Revealing a secret' and the Prompt is 'During Class'.**

ooOoOoOoOoo

As his hand moved over the chalk board, Severus wondered how no one else seemed to notice the slow deterioration of Potter's muggleborn friend. She had come back to school after the disastrous events at the Department of mysteries a changed witch. He supposed that many would merely attribute it to her being nearly a year older than most of her classmates, and assume she was simply coming into her maturity a bit before them. The girl had always been studious after all, but she seemed to be drawing away from her friends and into herself.

She was paler than usual, and to his eyes had lost weight even more so in the last couple of months. There was a faint shadow under her eyes, dark circles poorly disguised with make-up he imagined. He'd attempted to broach the topic with Albus, but the man had merely patted him on the head and suggested that perhaps she was still having bad dreams from her brush with death at the hands of Dolohov. He had admitted that it was a possibility, and had resolved to simply monitor her condition.

Today was the third day since he had seen her consume anything more substantial than a piece of toast and he decided he'd let it play out long enough. His sixth year students had Potions today, and he'd been forced to allow Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to continue against his very vocal protests. He set the day's potion on the board and settled back to observe. Normally his Newt classes were an excellent opportunity to get caught up on marking, but today he needed to try and parse out what exactly was eating Miss Granger. He watched her pull out her quill and amend her textbook with the day's alterations. She was one of the few students that had ever noticed that his written instructions varied from the text. He saw the slightest tremor of her hand and he narrowed his eyes. All the pieces came together into an all too neat, but altogether disturbing picture. A quick look at her nail beds confirmed it. There was a slight bluish cast to them, and he was quite sure if he pulled down her eyelids he'd see a similar pigment there. Foolish, foolish girl.

As class came to a close and everyone came up to turn in their efforts he looked up. "Miss Granger, please remain as I need to discuss something with you." He said.

Hermione blinked. "Of course Professor." She looked confused as to what she'd done but waited while the classroom emptied.

He plucked her vial out of the basket and sighed. It was not her usual standard of work, and he wondered how badly she was slipping in her other classes. He stood and walked to the door at the back of the classroom, ushering her through to his office. "Please take a seat Miss Granger."

The girl crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from his desk, her body language screaming discomfort. "Was there something wrong with my potion Professor?"

"Yes, though that is not the reason for this meeting, merely a symptom of it." He sighed. "I've spoken with several of your other instructors and we've noticed a disturbing pattern over the last several months. Your grades are slipping, and from my own observations I have my suspicions why. This would normally be a matter for your Head of House, but Minerva seems largely ignorant." He rubbed his temple. "I simply do not understand how someone as intelligent as you could do something so dreadfully stupid. Dreamless Sleep is highly addictive, even a second year student knows that."

Hermione's eyes fell to the ground. "It was the only thing that would stop the nightmares…" She whispered. "And now it doesn't even do that." She closed her eyes, feeling tears stinging them.

Severus stood and went around his desk. He pulled a chair over and sat in front of her. "The more you rely on it, the less effective it becomes over time to the point where the amount you need to consume in order to get any sleep starts to poison your system. That is why your hands are shaking, and why I noticed the discolouration in your nail beds." He had struggled with this addiction himself for years after Lily's death, so he was intimately aware of what this girl was going through.

"I can't even eat without feeling sick." She whispered.

"I can help you Miss Granger, but you will need to remain here over the Christmas break and you cannot tell anyone that you have stayed behind. You will take the train to King's Cross with everyone else, and I will give you a portkey that will take you back to Hogsmeade. I will meet you and sneak you back into the castle, you cannot be seen. Withdrawal is not a pretty process, and at the end of it…you will owe me a favour Miss Granger. Your only other alternative is to admit yourself voluntarily to St. Mungos and that will be reflected in your permanent record and might even forfeit your prefect's status." Severus laid it out to her in black and white.

Hermione lifted her head and looked at him. "Why do you even care?"

"Because without your assistance I highly doubt Potter will survive what is to come, and because I hate to see a talented mind brought low by addiction." He said softly. "What is your decision Miss Granger?"

"I'll accept your help, in return for a later favour." She said quietly. "No one else can know." She hated that it sounded like she was begging, but she was.

"You have my word." He stood and went to his cabinet and pulled out two bottles. "You will need to continue to take Dreamless sleep until next Friday when the train leaves, but take a sip of the pink liquid before meals, and a sip of the blue afterwards. It will always allow you to eat without feeling ill and settle the tremors."

Hermione took them and put them in her book bag.

"Now if you start vomiting blood you will come here immediately. If I am not in this office tap that statue with your wand and I will come." He pointed to a beautiful raven carved from Onyx. It was a secret only his more troubled Snakes knew, but in such a situation the girl's life would be in danger. "Now, you'd best return to your dormitory and try to get some rest before dinner. I'll slip you the portkey and instructions before you leave."

Hermione nodded, utterly ashamed by how far she'd let things go. She headed back up to the common room. She saw Ron sitting with Lavender Brown and she felt ill. She just walked right by them and went up to her room, laying back on the bed. She was so tired, even kicking off her shoes felt like too much work. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing his face, and she hadn't told anyone about the letters. She'd started receiving them the first week back. She'd burned them at first, but then for some reason she kept saving them. They were disgusting, filthy, and scared her, but she didn't feel like she could tell anyone. They were just letters…and Dolohov was in Azkaban, he couldn't hurt her. She said that to herself every night, hoping that one day she'd believe it.

~Fin~


	4. Healing

A/N: Written for the House Points Competition, supporting Slytherin House. Round One - Drabble. Prompt: An Injury

ooOoo

Severus was sitting beside Miss Granger's bed, focusing on the pulsing, burning curse mark that had slashed across her body. There was no physical wound but purple fire was surging under her skin, causing her to twist and writhe in pain. The others had been tended to by Poppy, but Miss Granger's injuries were simply far beyond the Medi-witch's expertise. This was active dark magic, and letting the incompetents at St. Mungo's try their hands at it was equally unacceptable. He dipped his fingers into a jar of salve and traced it along the burning line, mentally hissing as the magic heated his own skin, threatening to burn him as it was doubtlessly searing into her. He spelled several potions into her stomach to relieve pain, and fight the damage the curse was doing.

That portion done, he began to weave spells to bind the curse to the scar, keeping it from consuming her. The curse fought him, violently, but after several hours he managed to coax it to sleep, wrapping it in buffering spells to protect the young woman lying in front of him. It now lay static, brilliant purple under her skin running from just below her collarbone, down between her breasts, over the smooth expanse of her stomach, to end curling along her hipbone. If it had been a cutting curse it would have split her in two.

Foolish children, thinking themselves able to take on the Dark Lord's followers. He knew that this particular young witch had likely been the only voice of dissent, but she had gone with them to try and contain the lunacy on display. Potter had nearly gotten his brilliant friend killed. He wondered if the arrogant little fool had any idea just how close to the veil she was hanging. He'd seen this particular curse more than once in the past, Antonin's personal invention. He had never seen anyone survive it. It killed horrifically and swiftly. The feel of the magic playing against hers had tweaked something in his mind. He couldn't define it yet, but he would. He finally finished and pulled the sheet up over her bare body and collapsed back into his seat.

"How is she Severus?" Albus said, finally coming into the darkened hospital wing. The Weasleys had taken their children home, their injuries relatively minor compared to hers, and Harry had been returned to his dorm room. He'd worry about repairing the destruction in his office later.

"I've managed to bind the curse, and halt the damage but she is not out of the woods by any means." He said quietly. "She's going to need intensive care for weeks, if not most of the summer. At least ten different potions every single day, and careful monitoring."

"I suppose we can move her to one of the Order's safe houses…"

"No, I need my own lab space to brew her potions. She'll need to remain here." Severus said immediately.

"Severus, you know we cannot allow students to remain at the school over the summer." Albus said gently.

"So swear the girl to secrecy, unlike Potter she is capable of holding her tongue. I am telling you that this curse will kill her if we do not treat it aggressively, and with precision. I cannot do that while I am flooing to and fro with delicate potions. I need her here where I can both brew and monitor her closely. Your foolish approach to Potter's problems this year landed the girl in that bed, and you will allow me to treat her Albus or her death will be on your hands." Severus had stood, too tired and exhausted to temper his words.

Albus was quiet for a long moment and then nodded. "I will ask the Castle to add a room to your chambers for her, and I will tell her parents that she's been offered a summer apprenticeship here at the castle. Do you have any idea why she survived Severus?" He asked, very casually.

The tone caught Severus' interest, even through the fog of his exhaustion. "No, I will need to view her memories of the incident, and that will have to wait until she's awakened." He said softly. He had a niggling suspicion that grew the more he played the feel of the curse around in his mind, but he kept it firmly hidden away behind his walls. If his suspicions were even remotely correct the Headmaster could not know that he had begun to catch on. "Go…I will inform you if there is any change in her condition." He dismissed the man and went to the potions cabinet to get himself an Invigorating Draught. He sat at her bedside, listening as Albus' footsteps took him away from the Hospital wing. The old wizard gone, Severus critically looked at the witch lying unconscious on the bed. "Why did his magic spare you…what are you to Dolohov?" He whispered softly into the night. The question would chase him throughout the night, but the answer would elude him.

~Fin~


	5. Of Moonlight & Firebolts

**A/N: Written for the House Points Competition ~ Representing Slytherin. Round One – Short Story. Prompt: "Fly With Me." Word Count: 1818**. _**Any misspelling of words, or dubious grammar in Viktor's speaking lines is intentionally done for effect, remembering he has a thick accent & English is not his first language.** _

ooOoo

Hermione looked at the little slip of paper in her hand and bit her bottom lip. She and Viktor hadn't had a lot of time to talk after the second task. Kakaroff had started restricting his students to the boat, drawing away from everyone and growing paranoid. She didn't want Viktor to get into trouble with his Headmaster, but she wanted to see him. She grabbed a piece of paper out of her bag, tore off a little corner and wrote 'Yes' on it. She handed the slip of paper to the owl, and watched as it smoothly launched itself back out the window.

She went down to the Common Room and was grateful that Harry was sitting on his own. She went and sat down beside him. "Hey." She bumped his shoulder with her own.

"Hey. What's up, I thought you were turning in early?" Harry asked.

"I need a favour." She said, wincing a bit. "Could I borrow your cloak?"

His eyebrows rose. "Do I want to know why?"

"I'd rather not say." She blushed a bit. "It's personal."

Harry chuckled. "Sneaking out to meet Viktor?" He teased.

"If you don't want to lend it to me, you can just say so." She snapped irritably, hating that she was so transparent.

"Okay, okay…I'll grab it for you." He laughed a little. "Just don't tell Ron, I don't need him pissed at me again." He held his hands up and stood. "Wait here ok?" He asked.

"Thanks Harry." She let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. She had no idea what was wrong with her. If she wasn't snapping at Harry or Ron, she was blushing uncontrollably. Personally she blamed Viktor. Before he'd come along and started sitting with her in the library, she'd been above all these silly emotions. Every time he touched her it was like her brain just shut off, and she hated that she liked the sensation. He was always so careful with her, like she was something precious that he was afraid of breaking. No one had ever treated her like that, it made her feel special.

Harry came back down and handed her the cloak. "Look, I know that I haven't been the best about you seeing him, but it's just that I worry." He met her eyes. "If he makes you happy, then he's ok with me."

She stood and hugged him. "Thanks Harry. I'll give it back to you in the morning." She smiled and after a quick check to make sure no one else was in the Common Room, she flipped it over herself. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she followed Harry to the portrait and slipped out when he opened it for her. She couldn't believe that she was sneaking out of the castle to meet a boy. It felt kind of exciting, breaking the rules for once.

The castle was quiet, curfew had come and gone and almost everyone was safe in their dormitories. Filch and Mrs. Norris would be patrolling the castle, along with the odd teacher looking to catch students out of bed. She made her way down to the entrance hall and when she was sure no one was there, she ducked outside. Her feet took her across the damp grass, heading for the Quidditch pitch. Viktor's note had said to meet him there, behind the stands. He had a surprise for her.

It was very dark, only a sliver of moon casting light down on the deserted grounds. Once she was behind the stands, she took off the cloak and put it into her book bag. It was very quiet as she looked around, casting a quick tempus and seeing that she was a few minutes early. She heard footsteps in the dark and ducked into an alcove near where the players entered to go up to the dressing rooms.

"Her-my-oh-knee?" A quiet voice cut through the dark. He still struggled a little over her name, but he was getting better.

Hermione slipped out of the shadows and smiled. "I'm here." She said and frowned when she saw the firebolt in his hand, having a sinking feeling about this 'surprise'.

He smiled and slipped a hand into hers. "I vasn't sure you'd come." He said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm glad you did." He said.

Hermione was glad for the dark surrounding them to hide her blush. "I've missed you." She admitted quietly. "So what was this surprise you had for me?" She asked.

"I remember you say you're afraid of flying…I vant to show you it's not bad." He said, stumbling over the words and frowning as it didn't come out quite right.

"I don't know." She hedged, biting her bottom lip and giving the broomstick a dubious look.

"Do you trust me?" Viktor gently tipped her chin up, making her meet his eyes. When she nodded slightly, he smiled and moved back mounting his broom and offering her a hand. "Fly with me." He said.

Hermione took a deep breath and took his hand, letting him guide her to straddle the broom in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding the broom while keeping her secure. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"I vill never let you fall." He promised, whispering into her ear. He pushed off with his feet and took them up, keeping it slow for her. Even with the gentle lift off, she sucked in a surprised gasp, gripping the broom's handle hard. "Easy _zaek,_ soft hands." He whispered to her, taking them away from the pitch and heading out over the forest. "Don't forget to breathe." He chuckled into her curls, taking her on a leisurely flight.

When she'd told him about her one and only flying lesson, he'd been nearly heart broken. Flying was as natural to him as breathing, and for her introduction to have frightened her so badly that she refused to fly at all just made him sad. He'd resolved that he would take her flying at least once before he left and show her just how freeing it could be. He felt the tension slowly leech from her back, letting him mould his body better with hers. Her hands relaxed and he threaded his fingers with hers against the well-worn wood.

He shifted his weight and swung them out over the Black Lake, just skimming the surface. "Ready to go faster?" He asked her.

"Yes." Hermione said, feeling perfectly secure where she was tucked against him. She let go with one hand, reaching down and trailing her fingers in the water. She'd never understood how Harry and Ron could love flying as much as they did. It was dangerous, and she much preferred to have both feet on the ground thank you very much. This though, tucked against Viktor's chest, feeling his breath on her neck as they skimmed the surface of the water together, she could suddenly understand the appeal.

Viktor kissed her cheek and then leaned into her, shifting her lower against the handle as they accelerated. He didn't get anywhere close to the top speed his Firebolt was capable of, knowing she was not ready for that. He banked them up, feeling a little reckless as he sent them shooting past the ship, weaving between the sails. He heard her laughter on the wind and it made him smile, happy that he'd managed to change her opinion on flying. They flew around the grounds, circling the castle until he finally set them down behind the Quidditch stands again. He was reluctant to let her go, finding that he very much liked having her against him. Swallowing thickly, he made himself move back.

She turned, grinning widely. "That was incredible!" She said, meeting his eyes in the dim light.

"I'm glad you liked it." He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek. "I love seeing you smile." He said softly.

Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach and she rested her hands on his chest. As Viktor leaned in, she let her eyes close. The first brush of lips was so soft, and she moved into it, seeking more. His hand shifted from her cheek to slide back into her hair. Distantly she heard the sound of his broom hitting the grass as they stumbled backwards. Her back hit the wood wall of the stands, just as he coaxed her lips to part. She moaned softly as he picked her up, making the angle easier on his neck. When they finally parted their lips she was breath hard.

He kissed her once more, just a soft press of lips before he set her down. "Forgive me, that vas not very gentlemanly." He looked embarrassed.

"It's ok…I liked it." She admitted, taking his hand to keep him from backing away. "I didn't mind." She told him, squeezing his hand to reassure him that it really was ok. "I actually really liked it." She blushed.

Viktor lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You are so very special Hermione." He managed to say her name smoothly this time. "You surprise me all the time."

"You surprise me too, and make me surprise myself." She told him. "I wish you didn't have to leave." She said softly.

"Come and visit me this summer, in Bulgaria." He asked her. "I cannot bear the thought that vhen I leave I may not ever see you again."

She nodded softly. "I'll need to ask my parents, but I want to." She shifted closer and rested her head against his chest.

"Then ve vill make it happen." He promised and kissed her hair. "I should see you back to the Castle, _Nevinen_." He said, knowing it was very late.

"It's ok, I can head back on my own. I don't want you to get caught." She protested.

"No, it's late and I'd rather be caught than something happen to you." He said stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes a little. "There's no need for either of us to get caught. I have a way to head back without anyone seeing me. I promise I'll be fine." She said. "Please go, and we'll see each other again, soon I hope." She said.

He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckled. "Until later, my Hermione." He gave her a warm smile and got back on his broom.

"Thank you again. I had a nice time." Hermione said and watched him kick off from the ground and shoot off towards the Black Lake like a streak of light. She leaned back against the stands for a moment and touched her lips, remembering the kiss and how perfect it had been. After a few moments she slipped the cloak over herself again and headed back to the castle, wondering if flying could be anywhere near as fun when you did it alone.

~Fin~


	6. Trading Pieces

**A/N: Written for Round One of the House Points Competition for Slytherin House. Theme: Rejection, Prompt: Wizards Chess. Word Count: 1378. This is set a few years after the deaths of Lily and James at Godric's Hollow and is a recreation of a famous Chess match.**

 **o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.**

Severus settled into his chair, looking at his opponent. He resented the man more than he liked him, if he were brutally honest with himself. He wanted nothing more than to hide himself away in some remote corner of the world and lose himself to his research, and his pain. Albus would not allow it. He claimed that Severus owed him. Owed him what exactly Severus was somewhat fuzzy on. He'd promised his service to the man on the condition that he save Lily, they both knew that the Supreme Mugwump had failed somewhat spectacularly at that.

"Your turn to choose a colour, Severus." Albus said.

"White." He replied and spun the board, determined to put the old man off. These weekly chess games were Albus' way of forcing him to interact with someone outside of his classroom.

"Very well, your move them." Albus sipped his tea.

Severus ordered his King's pawn forward. "Have you considered my request?" He asked, careful to keep his tone casual.

"I have." Albus just smiled and matched the opening move.

Severus ground his teeth and sent his kingside knight out. "You know my skills are wasted teaching dunderheads how to avoid blowing themselves up." He said.

"Queen's pawn…yes you…up you go." Albus said to his piece as it moved forward a space. "Severus, you are one of the best minds in your field…I hardly see how having you teach in your area of expertise a waste." He said kindly. "Lemon drop?"

"Save them for your students." Severus tried to avoid snarling. "Queen's pawn D4." He said. "You're not at all concerned that I'm going to murder one of your precious little lions?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Bishop to G4." Albus said and just smiled benignly. "You bluster but you'd never do it Severus, and we both know it."

"Pawn to E5." He said, and felt a small thrill of satisfaction as his pawn reduced one of Albus' into rubble. "Don't be so sure." He replied, hating that the man was right.

"Bishop to F3." Albus smiled as he took Severus' knight. "While I'm quite certain you'd do a good job at Defense Against the Dark Arts my boy, finding someone to replace you for Potions would be next to impossible."

"Queen to F3." Severus retaliated. "Don't be ridiculous. You hardly need a Potions Master to teach the subject, at least not to the Owl students. Anyone with an O or E on their Newt would be more than capable of teaching that drivel."

"Pawn to E5." Albus said and shrugged. "So it's not that you object to teaching the subject, it's that you dislike teaching anyone without a basic understanding of it."

"Bishop to C4." He said and ran a hand through his hair. "I dislike teaching in general." He said.

"Knight to F6." Albus said. "We've had this discussion before Severus, and I see no need to revisit it. It will only end with you getting upset and storming off. You are here, and you've agreed to stay on."

"Queen to B3." Severus frowned at the board a moment, trying to figure out what Albus was playing at today. "We didn't agree to anything, you told me I was staying on and inferred that you might withdraw your protection of me if I decided to go elsewhere." He said quietly.

"Queen to E7." Albus said, blue eyes narrowing slightly. "You were aware of the terms of my assistance Severus."

"Knight to C3." He sipped his tumbler of fire whiskey. "I was aware of the price for you saving her."

"Pawn to C6." Albus said watched the younger wizard carefully. "I did what I could, James chose his secret keeper poorly."

"Bishop to G5." Severus threw back the last of his drink and closed his eyes. "Only you would have let him trust that murderer. It wasn't like it was the first time he tried to kill someone." He said, the accusations dripping from his words. "I always knew what he was, and I hope he rots in Azkaban for an eternity."

"Pawn to B5." The headmaster said quietly, not responding to that.

"Knight to B5." Severus followed, on the offensive now. "Maybe if you'd punished him properly then, they'd still be alive."

"Pawn to B5." The elderly headmaster hung his head a moment and touched his temple. "I did what I thought was best Severus, I couldn't have Remus' future destroyed by revealing his secret."

"Bishop to B5." Severus leaned forward. "But my future was an acceptable loss?"

"Knight to D7." Albus closed his eyes and shook his head. "I didn't understand what it meant to you."

"Didn't understand, or didn't care?" He said pointedly. He castled his King, shifting his vulnerable piece back behind cover. "I was a lost cause already, what did it really matter?"

"Rook to D8." Albus managed to respond. "You're changing the past to suit your own narrative Severus."

"Rook to D7." Severus moved boldly now, scenting blood in the water. "No. I'd nearly been killed, eaten by your pet werewolf and you dragged me up here and told me it was my own fault. You punished me for Black's crime and threatened to expel me if I breathed a word of it to anyone."

"Rook to D7." Albus traded pieces with him, too distracted to see Severus' clever attack. "Remus was as much a victim of that night as you were, I needed to protect him too."

"Rook to D1." He protected his King. "No…you protected your precious Gryffindors and punished me. I didn't matter, I was just an inconvenience."

"Queen to E6. It wasn't like that my, boy." Albus tried to placate him.

"I am not your boy." Severus snarled. "Bishop to D7."

"Knight to D7." Albus traded yet another piece, chased into a corner of the board and not entirely sure how the younger man had done it. "What do you want Severus?"

"Queen to B8." The smile that crept across Severus' lips wasn't pleasant. It was predatory, and a little cruel. "Many things, but I'll accept the DADA position as a start."

"Knight to B8." Albus shook his head. "I've rejected your application twice now, must I really do it for a third?" He sighed.

"Rook to D8….checkmate." Severus said as his rook destroyed Albus' king. He stood and looked down at him. "Yes, you do. And you'll have to reject it again, and again, until your realize it's best to give me what I want. You owe me that."

"You made your own choices Severus, I am not responsible for all the ills of your life." Albus looked up at him.

"Not all of them. Sometimes we make our own choices, and sometimes we're driven to them. You made your choice that night, you chose to value me as less than a foul creature like Sirius Black. A man that betrayed his friends, murdered muggles in cold blood. No matter what I chose, or what I have done…I've never been guilty of that." He said. "And I yet if he came to you repentant and humble you'd forgive him in a heartbeat. All he's done, and you still love him best." He turned and stalked towards the door of the Headmaster's office. "No more games Albus, I've lost my taste for them." He said over his shoulder and left.

He headed down to his dungeons, trying to shed the betrayal and hurt. He was used to being shoved away, treated as less. It had been a theme of his life from the moment he'd done his first bit of accidental magic as a child. His father had pushed him away, frightened and disgusted by his abilities. His mother had started withdrawing from him too, desperate to please her husband. Her family had disowned her, and she knew she had nothing without Tobias Snape. He'd been so eager to go to Hogwarts with Lily, to make new friends and be accepted for his talents but he'd been ostracized for the sheer accident of his birth. It was the story of his life. He was never good enough, never welcome. He was tolerated, but any attempts at forging friendships, or anything more always led to rejection. He doubted that would ever change.

~Fin~


	7. Of Bellybutton Fluff & Firewhiskey

**A/N: Drabble written for the Apothecary**

 **o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.**

Severus scowled as he stalked through the dungeons. He'd survived the bloody battle of Hogwarts and rather than being allowed to withdraw quietly and live out the rest of his miserable life in peace and quiet he'd found himself named a bloody hero and all but begged to remain on at Hogwarts as Headmaster. This year he'd had to contend with the veterans of the war returning for an unprecedented 8th year to allow them to write their Newts, well…those that had deigned to grace the school with their presence. He sneered thinking of some that had taken offers from the Ministry to go to work for the Auror's office straight away. Every single one who'd accepted it had earned their place in his mind as a dunderhead to trump all dunderheads.

He narrowed his eyes as he heard giggling from one of the potion's labs. He stalked to the door and listened.

"Never have I ever…picked out my bellybutton fluff." A muffled female voice giggled madly. "Oh my god Harry ewww!" She exclaimed.

Snape threw opened the door and stormed in. "What is the meaning of this!" he thundered at the group of 8th years sitting in a semi-circle on the floor. There was dead silence as they stared at him with wide eyes.

Neville Longbottom promptly passed out, the combination of fire-whiskey and his old Potions Professor too much for him. His toad, Trevor hopped across the floor…looking to hide away too. Harry Potter's hand was frozen at his lips, butter-beer dribbling down the front of him. Draco Malfoy had the grace to look embarrassed that they'd been caught.

Severus' eyebrow raised even higher at the sight of his Head Girl, Hermione Granger, clamping her hands over her mouth to try and stifle her giggles. He let out an annoyed huff of breath. He pointed his wand at Longbottom. "Enervate!" He said, putting every ounce of his annoyance into his spell. "If I ever find the four of you in such a state again, it will take ten years for your houses to earn back the points I will take." His voice curled through the room like liquid silk. He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "At least have the good sense to erect wards…I could hear you two corridors away." He said and left, grinning a little. If there were ever four students in need of getting pissed out of their minds…it was them.

~Fin~


	8. Understanding

**A/N: Written for Round 2 of the House Points Competition, Representing Slytherin. Drabble. Prompt: A Wedding. Word Count: 865**

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.

He didn't know when everything had all gone wrong. It was supposed to be him up there, waiting for her. He'd always known it, and his mother had reassured him that it would come to pass as sure as the sun rose in the sky every day. He'd had it all planned out. They'd go to work together at the Ministry, get engaged and after a year they'd marry. She'd give up her career to raise their kids, and he'd go on to be the very best Auror ever to walk the halls of the Ministry. Ron just didn't understand how this had happened.

He stood as the music was cued up, and turned his eyes to the end of the aisle. Autumn leaves formed a carpet of red and gold, beautiful in a way that only nature could provide. Hermione stood there, looking like a queen in her wedding robes. It was a flawless combination of cream acromantula silk and delicate faerie lace. Her hair was swept up into a crown of flowers and more autumn leaves. Earrings of ruby and pearl caught the light from the hundreds of floating lanterns. The moon was rising above the clearing as she walked past him, Harry standing in for her father today and giving her away. Her eyes were fixed on the man waiting for her at the altar, as if no one else existed but the two of them. Why had she never looked at him like that?

He felt a wave of nausea as her groom descended the steps to take her hand from Harry. He watched jealously as Viktor pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a soft expression on his face as he led her up to the altar. Professor McGonagall was acting as the bonder. He remembered the talks about how they were observing the traditional marriage bonds, and how romantic everyone seemed to think it was to weave their magic together forever. He'd see how romantic it was when bloody Krum got injured and couldn't play anymore, and she lost those rose-coloured glasses she seemed to wear around him all the time.

Professor McGonagall wove the magic around the couple, smiling as she spoke the vows. As they both repeated them, golden bands of light wrapped around their joined hands. It glowed brightly in the soft twilight, and sank into their skin as Viktor leaned down and caught Hermione's lips in a kiss. Ron clapped half-heartedly as everyone else cheered for the newly married couple. Ruddy pumpkin head was grinning like an idiot as they walked down the aisle past where he was standing. What did she see in that idiot?

He filed out, walking with his brothers towards the tented pavilion where the wedding feast had been laid out. He felt like he was marching to his doom. He was seated at a table with most of his family, save Bill and Fleur. They were at the head table, guests of Viktor. The rest of Viktor's side was occupied by his parents and some of his friends from his Durmstrang years. Harry and Draco sat beside Hermione, along with Professor McGonagall, Neville, and Luna. She was laughing at something Harry said when Viktor stood, his champagne glass in his hand.

"Six years ago, I came here to compete in a Tournament seeking glory and honour for myself and my school. Such glory was not to be mine," he paused and nodded to Harry, "but what I found was far more precious, and rare." He dropped his eyes to Hermione and smiled softly. "A skilled seeker can find something small and precious in the chaos of a game, and in the madness of the Triwizard Tournament I found my Hermione. A witch who didn't care for my fame, or the game that had consumed my life up to then. A wizard can wait a whole lifetime to meet such a witch, and I promised myself that day that I would wait for her. I never dared to dream that one day I would be standing here with her, and that I am makes me the luckiest of men. To my bride, to Hermione." He had clearly worked very hard on his English. His accent was thick at times but his pronunciation was near perfect.

Ron found himself lifting his glass, a bit of the anger inside melting as he saw just how much Krum seemed to love her. He sipped the champagne and looked down at the tablecloth for a long moment. The other toasts washed over him like waves on the shore, but in a lull he found himself standing up, raising his glass. He ignored the panicked looks on a few people's faces. "Hermione, you've been one of my best friends since we were eleven years old. We've been through a lot together both good and bad, and I've never seen you look as happy as you do today. Here's to Viktor and Hermione, take care of each other." He met his friend's eyes and gave her a small smile, hoping she knew he was sorry for being so horribly thick. Seeing her so happy, Ron finally understood.

~Fin~


	9. Rare Creatures

**A/N: Written for Round Two of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story. Prompt: Red. Word Count: 1275**

 **ooOoOoOoOoo**

Red. It was always red. She was a vibrant splash of colour in a dull, monotonous landscape of black and grey. These Ministry galas were usually utterly tedious affairs, but she was incentive to keep coming. He wove his way through the room, silver eyes intent on his quarry. He enjoyed the pursuit, an idle amusement in an otherwise boring life. He snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray and as he came to stand beside her, he offered it to her with a smile. "Good evening Miss Granger, as exquisite as usual." He stood just inside her personal space, enough to breed awareness but not so far as to make her uncomfortable.

An exasperated smile hung on her lips as she took the glass. "Lord Malfoy." She inclined her head politely.

"I don't see Mr. Weasley here tonight." He said, unable to keep the approving look off his face.

"You won't be seeing much of Ron in the future, at least not in my company." She said and sipped the flute of champagne.

"Oh? Do tell?" He offered her his arm and escorted her out to the balcony. In reality it just looked out over the Ministry Atrium, but tonight it was charmed to have a view of a moonlit lake.

She leaned against the railing and sighed. "I just can't do it anymore." Her voice was soft, and held a strange mix of sadness and defeat.

Lucius leaned against the railing beside her. "In all honesty, it's a wonder that you managed to tolerate it this long." He said, watching her. "Any fool could see that you're worth ten of that boy. I never quite understood the attraction on your end."

"I've been in love with him since I was 15, or at least the idea of him." She admitted and shook her head. "It was easy to ignore the jealousy, the resentment, and the envy. He was so angry when I told him about my promotion, as if it was some great plot to make him feel worthless." She gritted her teeth. "I worked hard for this, I deserved it."

"Yes you did, and you most certainly do." Lucius said, and reached out, tracing a finger along the scandalously low back of the red silk creation she was wearing. Hermione was the youngest Undersecretary in more than a hundred and fifty some odd years. She'd written no fewer than three bills in the last year that had found ready acceptance in the Wizengamot. Kingsley would have been an abject fool to ignore her for any other candidate in the Ministry. There were of course whispers that it was merely favouritism because they had fought together during the war, but anyone that knew the Minister of Magic had to know that Kingsley did not ever play favourites. She'd had every right to expect that her partner would not only congratulate her, but be proud of her accomplishment. "You are going to do great things, Hermione. You need someone beside you that will celebrate your triumphs and support you when things get difficult. Weasley will never be that man."

She nodded and sipped her champagne again. "I know." She straightened a little, but didn't pull away from his touch. She turned her head to look at him and was quiet for a long moment. "I just wish I knew who that man was, and where to find him." She tried to make light of it.

Lucius reached out and tucked a little piece of hair behind her ear. "I can think of a few possibilities, if you'd welcome the suggestions." He let the corner of his lips quirk up.

"The last time I checked, you were married." She gave Lucius a look. She enjoyed their little game, and it was harmless enough. A bit of innocent flirtation in public places. To her it was safe because they both had other people in their lives and nothing was ever going to come of it.

"I am, and the men I have in mind are most certainly not." He reached out and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "None of them are men you'd seek out, but one of them might just be what you need and deserve." He said, holding her eyes.

"Are you offering to set me up on a blind date?" She arched an eyebrow at him, resisting the urge to laugh.

"I most certainly am." He said and smiled. "If I can't have you, Miss Granger, I feel a desire to be certain that the man who does is worthy of you." He gave her a most charming smile. "Don't you trust me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes a little. "Not in the slightest."

"And that is why, my clever girl, I enjoy our time together so very much." He tucked her arm into his and led her back into the ball. "You need someone that will value your mind, and be able to engage with you on your level." He led her out into the swirl of dancing couples, manoeuvering her into his arms. The first few times he'd done this Kingsley, or Potter had tried to intervene…only to be told to piss off by the damsel they'd intended to rescue. His hands were always where they should be, groping her would be base and crass. It was so much more fun to make her wish that he would be less than a gentleman.

"You imagine there are many men who could?" She parried, slipping into their familiar pattern of thrust, parry, and return.

"Other than myself? Very few." He gave her a superior look before spinning her with a firm grip on her hand. At least in the dance itself, there was no question who was leading. "And of them, even fewer that you'd find attractive. The question is, what attracts you more Miss Granger, the mind…or the packaging?" He asked. "This is not an idle query, it will affect whom I choose to pair you with."

"Pair me with? You're talking like I'm some rare creature you're selecting a mate for." She snorted as he moved them effortlessly through the parade of dancers. "In all honesty, you know that the mind is far more attractive to me than a face. Beauty can fade, while wit and cleverness endure." She said. "You tease me about my attractiveness, but I know my flaws well enough." She sighed a bit. She knew she was plain, and it was just her fame that drew men to her. With Lucius she still wasn't entirely certain why he chased her like he did. Perhaps it was the thrill of toying with her in the only way he was allowed to now, some sad strange substitute for battle.

"You are a rare creature, Hermione." He said softly, tilting his head slightly to the side as if attempting to read something in her expression. "And you deserve someone who recognizes that." He had someone in mind, but hadn't been certain if she'd ever be receptive to the idea. They were so very alike, each completely at a loss to recognize their true worth. He couldn't help but wonder if two souls that appeared so similar might just be able to complete one another.

She blushed a little and shook her head. "I sometimes wonder if you've been confounded."

He simply laughed at her, having better manners than to argue with a beautiful woman. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he arranged a dinner date for her with Severus. If the fates were kind, it might even go well.

~Fin~


	10. Waters of Creation

**A/N: Written for the Bonus Round: Crossovers. Representing Slytherin House. Cross Over: Marvel/Harry Potter. Prompt1: "How did I end up Here?" Prompt2: Shattering Glass. Word Count: 1444**

 **ooOooOooOooOoo**

Hermione was running, feet pounding on black tile that flowed through the Department of Mysteries. There were curses flying through the air all around her. She cast a quick _Protego,_ and ducked behind a desk. She took a moment, gasping for air as she tried to think past the pounding of her heart in her ears. She heard Luna scream and it propelled her up onto her feet, and she was hit with a curse that sent her flying through the air. Her mind supplied, in a very detached manner, that it must have been _Impedimentia_. She heard the shattering of glass as she hit the wall of jars, strange liquid pouring down on her as the little shards dug into her skin. Everywhere the liquid touched seemed to grow cold, a strange tingling sensation coursing through her. She was about to call out for help when everything went black.

She didn't know how long she'd drifted in the strange void, there was no way to mark the passage of time. She didn't know what was happening around her, or if she was even still alive. The sensation of floating disappeared and a gentle kind of warmth started to seep into her limbs. She could feel the softness of a bed beneath her, and feel a breeze blowing across her skin. She opened her eyes and a dazzling play of light blinded her for an instant, making her squeeze her eyes shut again and turn away from the sun.

"Try not to move, you've been through quite the ordeal." A smooth voice said.

She shielded her eyes and opened them again. "Where am I? How did I get here?" Hermione asked, voice rough as if it had been some time since she'd been able to speak.

"You're are in the Palace of the King, in Asgard." The man said and came to sit beside the bed. "I do not know how you came to be here. You were found on the shores of the Great River, adrift in the celestial waters." The man had black hair, and intense green eyes. He was dressed strangely, in robes of green and gold. "What is your name, Lady?"

Hermione sat up slowly, seeing that she'd been dressed in a modest silk night gown. "My name is Hermione Granger…I was in a battle and I fell into something…" She said, touching her temple and trying to remember what happened.

"You had some minor injuries, and they have been tended. You'll forgive me, but you don't look like much of a warrior." The man smiled indulgently.

"I'm a witch." She said and then paled. "My wand…where is my wand?"

"Everything we found with you is just there." He nodded to a padded bench near the vanity where her clothing was lying neatly folded and clean.

Hermione got out of the bed, making it over to the bench before the strange man could say anything to try and calm her. She let out a breath of relief, finding her wand tucked neatly between her jeans and shirt. She gripped it tightly and felt the familiar play of magic in her hand. "Thank Merlin." She said softly, and then blushed a little realizing she was standing in front of her 'rescuer' in nothing but a nightgown. She flicked her wand at her sweater and transfigured it into a housecoat, pulling it on.

The man's eyes narrowed, as if appraising her again. "My name is Loki, and the All Father wishes to see you once you are able." He said and went to the wardrobe, pulling out a gown for her. "Your clothes are not fit for the Court, you'll wear this." He said and laid it over the dressing screen.

"Loki…the god of Mischief?" She blinked at him, wondering what rabbit hole she'd fallen down.

He chuckled. "Something like that." He said, amusement playing across his features. So the strange girl with the mystical powers was from Midgard, though different from any he had ever heard of.

Hermione crossed the floor and slipped behind the screen. This all felt so surreal, like a crazy dream. She undressed and pulled on the gown that he'd pulled for her. There was a mirror back here and she gasped at the sight of herself. It looked like she'd stepped out of some medieval fantasy. The black and silver gown laced snuggly around her waist, with a scoop neck that left the lines of her neck and shoulders bare. The sleeves were tight to her elbow and then flared wide, just coming to the tips of her fingers. She used her wand to twist her hair up off her neck. She slipped her feet into the little black slippers sitting by the bench. They were a little big, but that was easily fixed as well. She took a deep breath and stepped out, inwardly a little impressed at the man's clear shock.

"That will certainly do." He smiled and gestured for her to walk with him. "Hopefully my father can find a way to return you to where you came from, I imagine you're eager to get home." Loki said, watching the girl out of the corner of his eye as they strode through the palace. She garnered attention, but not nearly as much as she would have in her own clothing.

"I'm worried about my friends, I don't know what happened to them." Hermione said, taking in the strange place with eager eyes. She couldn't help but be curious about where she was, or how she'd gotten there.

They entered something that could only be described as a Throne room. She walked beside Loki to the foot of an honest to goodness dais. She was tugged down into a curtsey. And she bowed her head before getting a good look at the man sitting on the throne.

"What have you found this time, my son?" A warm voice wrapped around them.

"A human, from Midgard father." He said and stood, a hand on her elbow urged her to do the same. "She was adrift in the Celestial river. She claims to have been in battle one moment and then awoke here the next."

An old man descended the steps and looked at the girl beside his son critically. "What is the last thing you remember child?" He asked kindly.

"I was thrown into a wall and this cold silvery liquid fell all over me. I felt numb and almost like I was floating…" She frowned, trying to describe the peculiar sensations.

"The waters of creation…it's the only explanation." He nodded and looked at his son. "Take her to Heimdall, she can be returned to her world with the Bifrost. First, however, I will need your word to never reveal what you have seen here child." He turned his one good eye on the young woman. Just a girl really.

Hermione swallowed and nodded. "I give you my word, I will not speak of anything I saw here." She promised, relieved that she would be able to return home.

Loki nodded. "As you command father."

"Thank you, for your help." Hermione said to the King.

"You are most welcome, young witch." He grinned then, recognizing the magic that radiated off her skin. "Now go, the longer you linger here…the harder your absence will be to explain."

Hermione nodded and she let Loki guide her first back to the room to dress in her own clothing, and then out of the palace.

As they waited for a horse to be brought, Loki turned to her and pressed something into her hand. "While you may not speak to another human about this, one day I may come to find you. There is a debt you owe and I may have need of someone like you." His dark eyes were intent on her face.

Hermione nodded, feeling a shiver go down her spine. "Life debts are serious business, I will repay it if I can." She looked down at the pendant he'd given her. It was two pieces of metal spiraled together. One was black and the other a deep and dark green. She slipped the leather cord around her neck and tucked the pendant under her shirt.

"Good…now let's return you home." He said and mounted his horse, offering her a hand. He was biding his time now, waiting to overthrow his brother. A magical being from Thor's beloved Midgard might just be what he needed to tip the balance of power to his favour. She was still young, but he could feel her power. One could find the most interesting things in the Celestial River.


	11. Peacocks and Promises

**A/N: Written for Round 2 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Theme – Family /Prompt: "We need to talk about this," /Word Count: 1461**

 **ooOoOo August, 1980 oOoOoo**

It was a soft flutter of wings that woke the boy from his sleep. The boy was small, looking younger than his age of eleven years. He had a wild shock of chestnut hair sticking up wildly in places. He rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, looking confused as the nearly black eagle owl dropped a package on the end of his bed. He grabbed a piece of cookie from the bedside table and offered a bit to the owl who accepted it carefully.

As he touched the package it grew larger and there was a letter tucked into the front of it. He frowned a little and pulled the letter out. Other than his Hogwarts letter, he'd never had a letter of his own. The paper was heavy, and a creamy colour. There was a heavy green wax seal with an elegant peacock set in it. He broke the seal and pulled out the letter.

 _Trevelyan,_

 _The very best wishes tonight on your 11_ _th_ _Birthday. Next month you'll start your very first year at Hogwarts, and I wish you a year of new friendships and new experiences. I've waited a very long time to write you this letter, and the reasons for that are complicated. While I cannot be there to see you off on September 1_ _st_ _, I want you to know I love you, and will always be proud of you. Whatever House you are sorted into, I know you will do your very best. Study hard, enjoy yourself, and write your mother often._

 _Love, Your Father_

Trev's hands shook a little. His father? He'd asked so many times who he was, and his mother had simply told him that he could never know the man that had sired him. He set the letter down and untied the silver ribbon holding the box closed. He lifted the lid off and felt his jaw drop. He'd never had such a present in his whole life. The box was full to the brim. There was a book about Quidditch, a dozen chocolate frogs, a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, a package of Ice Mice, and some Droobles.

Underneath all of the treats was something soft and squishy. He pulled it out and blinked. It was a black cloak. The wool was so soft, and it was lined with black fur. The fastenings were silver, with a tiny peacock etched into the center of the medallions. Inside was a small note.

 _Wear it with Pride. One day, when it is safe…you will know who I am, and where you come from._

He pressed the little note to his chest and fought back tears. He had a father, even if he didn't know who he was, he had one. He just hoped one day he'd get to know him.

 **ooOooO Four Years Later OooOoo**

"Mr. Scabior, thank you for coming." Professor Snape looked at the young man sitting across from him. He'd been the young man's Head of House for the past four years, but Trevelyan Scabior was almost as much as a mystery to him as he'd been on the night of his Sorting. The boy was as strange as his mother had been, given to wandering the Forest whenever anyone wasn't paying attention. He'd lost count of the detentions he'd assigned the boy for being out there without permission. Strangely enough the lad never got himself into trouble, and seemed very much at home in the trees.

"I 'aven't been in the woods since last time Sir." Trev said as he sat down, a bit sullen.

"I know Mr. Scabior, you are not here because you are in trouble. I have some unfortunate news for you, and it's going to be difficult to hear. I understand you are acquainted with Lord Malfoy?" Severus asked him, nodding to where Lucius had been standing quietly in the corner.

Trev's head snapped around and he nodded, feeling something drop in the pit of his stomach. "It's mum…" He whispered, feeling tears building in his eyes. "Is she?" He looked between the two men.

"I'm afraid your mother has passed away, Trevelyan." Lucius said and came forward. "It was an accident, in her Potions lab. By the time the Aurors came, it was too late." He placed a hand on the young wizard's shoulder and squeezed it. "I am so very sorry."

Trev shook his head. "What do you care!?" He stood, wrenching his shoulder away. "She didn't matter to you, neither of us did." He said, narrowing his blue-grey eyes at the man he knew was his father.

"Severus…can we have some privacy?" Lucius said, looking at his friend.

"Of course." Severus stood, trying to keep the shock off his face. He'd known that Lucius had taken an interest in Melisandre Scabior's bastard son, but he'd assumed it had simply because of their friendship back in school. He'd never have dreamt that the boy was Lucius'. He shut the door behind him and cast a heavy privacy ward.

Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "She mattered very much to me. I loved your mother Trev, I chose her, but things…it wasn't to be." He said, throat tight.

Trev snorted and gave him a dirty look. "Y'think a few presents on me birthday, and at Christmas makes it all better? Y'know what they call me?" His accent getting thicker the more upset he got. He tried so hard to fit in, to be careful about how he spoke. He tried to ignore it when those Gryffindor wankers called him "Scab" or "Bastard". He tried to keep his head up when even his Housemates joked about his unknown parentage. It was why he spent so much time on his own, exploring the woods and getting a feel for the magic there. The Centaurs didn't care that he didn't have a father, unicorns didn't mind that people called his mother a whore behind her back, and old Hagrid didn't turn a hair about him being a little odd.

"No…I know they don't." Lucius said. "Please sit Trev. We need to talk about this. How long have you known?" He asked and sat down in one of the chairs.

"Couple years now." He said quietly and went back to his chair. "I brewed a lineage potion, second year. I needed to know." Trev looked down at the ground, frowning a bit.

Lucius' eyebrows raised. That was an advanced potion, even for some older students. He remembered studying it in his sixth year. "You deserved to know." He agreed. "Your mother had asked me not to tell you, because she didn't want to put you in danger." Lucius sighed and decided that at this point, the truth really was best even if he wished the boy were a little older before hearing it. "I loved your mother Trev, I did. She was an incredible witch, brilliant, powerful, and wit like a razor. When she got pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing. I told my father I was going to break my betrothal with the Blacks and marry her. My father threatened to kill her, and you. It was your mother that chose to break it off. She wanted to protect you from him, more than she wanted to be with me." He said quietly. "So I respected her choice and stayed away, to keep you safe. I would ask your forgiveness for that."

Trev lifted his head and looked at Lord Malfoy, his father. "What happens t'me?" He asked quietly, wiping at his tears.

"I'll make sure you're taken care of." Lucius reached over and placed his hand over his son's smaller ones. He couldn't publically claim the boy, out of consideration for Narcissa and Draco, but he could look after him. It wasn't often done these days, but fostering was an old tradition. "You are my son Trev, and I will take care of you now." He swore it.

Trev just nodded, feeling more tears slipping down his cheeks. "Why did she hafta die?" He sobbed, heart breaking. He didn't even resist as he was pulled into a tight embrace. He just clung to his father, crying as if it was the end of the world.

Lucius stroked his hand over his son's wild hair. "I don't know Trev…these things don't always make sense." He whispered. It would not be an easy road, for either of them, but he owed this to Melisandre. His father had ruined her life, and reputation. Her own parents had disowned her, casting her out as a disgrace. A beautiful, talented witch had been destroyed because he had loved her. He would do whatever he could to make sure his son didn't suffer the same fate.

~Fin~


	12. Your Life Belongs to Me

**A/N: Written for the House Points Competition Round 3, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble. Prompt: "And yet, here you are," Word Count: 865.**

 **o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Hermione pulled her cloak hood down further over her face as she wound her way through the maze of Knockturn Alley. Her heart was pounding, and she knew if anyone could have seen her face it would have been white as a sheet. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to leave Ron and Harry alone, waiting for her at Shell Cottage. There were so many reasons why she didn't want to do this, but unfortunately she had little choice in the matter.

She found the right building, and went down the narrow alley beside it. There was a rickety wooden staircase that led up to the second floor. A lantern sputtered at the top, casting shifting shadows in the narrow space. She swallowed and climbed the steps, wincing at each creak and groan of the wood beneath her feet. If this bloody thing collapsed under her, she was going to kill someone. She paused at the top and knocked once, waiting for the door to open.

It felt like an eternity, but at length the door opened, revealing the man she owed her life to.

"So glad you could make it, Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy said in a silken tone. "Do come in," he moved back and gestured grandly. "I'm afraid it's hardly the kind of accommodations either one of us is used to, but it will have to suffice," he said and shut the door behind her, redoing the wards.

"Please...as if you've given a second's thought about what conditions I am accustomed to," she glared at him, pushing back the hood of her cloak. "I'm nothing but a filthy mudblood to you. You don't even think I have a right to be alive, much less practice magic," Hermione spat, supremely uncomfortable with this whole situation.

"And yet, here you are," he said, eyes intent on her. "Unharmed, and unmolested," Lucius began to circle her. "I saved your life, and by our traditions it now belongs to me," he stopped in front of her, looking down at the little witch. "I trust you are familiar with the terms of a Life Debt."

Hermione ground her teeth. "Quite aware, which is the only reason why I am here," she answered him. She'd known that her life was no longer her own the moment Lucius had stepped in and kept Bellatrix from ending her life. She'd been bleeding and sobbing after the insane woman's interrogation, and Bellatrix had finally had enough of her silence. She'd started to say 'Avada' when Lucius had grabbed her arm. He'd whispered that brute force was hardly the way to get information out of her. Lucius had sent Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Draco away before he'd knelt down beside her. He'd whispered that he knew Dobby was nearby and would soon rescue her, and had told her about this meeting place.

"Good, then I shall not waste any time discussing it. There may come a time I will ask you for something, in payment for your life, but not tonight," he said and motioned to a chair. "Please, sit down Miss Granger," he paused a moment, waiting for her to comply. "I have in my possession something that you have been searching for. If I give it to you, I expect that the Order will protect my family when this is all done."

"What do you have?" Her eyes narrowed.

Lucius pulled a beautiful golden cup out of his robes. "I give you the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. The Dark Lord's Horcrux."

"I can't speak for the Order…but I will do everything I can to protect your family when he's finally dead," Hermione met his eyes, her own wider than normal.

"I will hold you to that Miss Granger."

"Why would you do this?" She asked, picking up the Horcrux.

"Because the triumph of the Dark Lord would ensure the destruction of my family," he said honestly. "We've been prisoners in our own home since I was released from Azkaban. My son was forced to take the Dark Mark and tormented for sport. My wife has lived in constant fear for her life since our Manor was occupied by Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters. Such things are not to be tolerated," he said, some venom in his tone. "I have played the meek servant quite long enough, it's time to strike a blow."

She'd seen first-hand the treatment the Malfoy's had endured at Bellatrix's hand. "But why save me?"

"Because you are useful, both now and likely in the future. While your descent is…questionable, you've proven your mettle. All you endured, and yet you did not break. A spirit like that is rare. I doubt the Weasley boy would have lasted even half so long were your positions reversed," his lips quirked into a small smile. "Best to run along now, my dear. We'll see one another soon enough."

Hermione tucked the cup away and stood. She had a sinking feeling that this would be far from the last time she'd see the blonde Death Eater, and that this would be easiest errand she ever ran for him. "Goodnight," she said and fled before he said another word.

~Fin~


	13. Partners & Equals

**A/N: Written for the House Points Competition, Round 3 representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story/ Prompt: Lucius/Narcissa [Couple]/ Word Count: 1719**

 **This is set during Narcissa Black's fifth year at Hogwarts, and consequently Lucius' seventh. This is Canon compliant.**

ooOoOoOoOoo

Narcissa bit her bottom lip as she broke the heavy black seal on the letter from her mother. Her parents had sat her down this summer, explaining that they were engaged in negotiations with several families in regards to her betrothal. The youngest of the Black sisters was turning 15 this year, and her mother thought it was high time to settle on the matter of her future. Bella had married Rudolphus more than a year ago, and Andy was meant to marry his brother Rasbastan next summer, after she finished school. She knew Andy wasn't terribly pleased with the arrangement either. She'd slipped out of the Great Hall to read her letter in private, not wanting to dissolve into tears if it was someone truly horrible.

 _Dearest Narcissa,_

 _Forgive my silence of late, but things have been most frantic around the Manor over the last few weeks as your father and I worked to finalize your betrothal. I am writing today to inform you that we were able to secure a most eligible match for you to the only son and heir of Lord Abraxas Malfoy. Lord Abraxas was most eager to see you matched to his son, and to finally unite two of the very oldest and purest bloodlines in Britain._

 _I have enclosed a copy of the final contract, for your own information, and young Lucius will be hearing from his father today or tomorrow to inform him of the match. Expect him to present you with a bonding gift within the next fortnight. Until such time you are not to speak of the betrothal with anyone not already privy to it, nor engage the Malfoy heir in discussion about it unless he first broaches the subject._

 _This is a match that your father and I have worked tirelessly to secure, and I trust you will be aware of the political ramifications of this match and the incredible opportunities that it will afford you. If you have concerns, or objections to this match please bring them forward now. Once the match is formally announced there will be no opportunity for second thoughts or recriminations. Your father expects you to do as you are instructed, but if you truly have valid concerns I will try and address them. I cannot imagine that you would, but you are my youngest daughter, and most dear to my heart._

 _Write soon and reassure your mother that I've made the right decision for you._

 _Lady Druella Black_

Narcissa closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. Of all the men they could have promised her to, they'd chosen a boy just two years her senior, and one that most girls had been chasing after for years. She let a little smile curl across her lips.

"Good news, I trust?" A smooth voice drawled from her left.

Narcissa's bright blue eyes snapped open and she blushed a little. "Malfoy," she said. "Just a letter from my mother, with welcome news."

Lucius chuckled and his hand, brandishing a similar letter. "From my father," he said. "May I join you, Miss Black?"

"Seems a little silly to say no," she shifted over on the little bench, a clear invitation. She watched the older boy as he sat down beside her, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"You're not opposed to the idea then?"

Narcissa shook her head. "In all honesty, when I read your name I was relieved. I know your prior interests lay elsewhere, but I hope that this isn't too horrible a disappointment for you," she swallowed, remembering the scandalous incident with the Ravenclaw Prefect last year.

Lucius sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "My responsibilities were made quite clear to me, and you are far from a disappointment," he turned and met her eyes. "What passed between Melisandre and I, was simply not meant to be," Lucius knew that she deserved the courtesy of truth in this matter.

"Did you love her?" She asked, allowing herself the boldness to make such a query.

"I do," he said quietly. "But I will never see her again."

Narcissa could see the emotions skating through his eyes and she nodded. "The rumors said there was a child, and that was why she left school," she knew this was perhaps her only chance to get the truth of the matter.

"There is a child," he admitted. "For their safety however, our connection can never be known," Lucius ran a hand through his hair.

Narcissa reached over and touched his hand where it laid on his thigh. "I'm sorry," she meant it.

"I'd rather not talk about it again," he swallowed. It was a painful memory, and the wounds were still raw.

She nodded. "Why don't we go for a walk down by the Lake, before we reply to our letters?" She could see he needed to go, but didn't wish to offend her by behaving rudely.

"That sounds lovely, Miss Black," he stood and offered her a hand, falling back onto the manners that had been drilled into him over the years.

"Please, call me Cissy," she said as she stood. "We're betrothed now, it's not inappropriate for you to be allowed some liberties of address," Narcissa smirked and slipped her arm through his.

He raised an eyebrow as they headed down the corridor. "Cissy?"

"Bella's nickname for me," she explained as they walked. They drew a few curious looks as they crossed the Entrance Hall and went outside. It was a warm day, the trees starting to change colours under the Scottish sun. They didn't say much, but she didn't really feel any pressure to breech the comfortable silence.

"What classes do you think you'll continue on into your Newts?" Lucius asked, clearly feeling as though he should attempt some conversation with the young woman. He honestly hadn't ever spent a great deal of time talking to this girl, despite being in school with her for five years now.

"I'll likely continue Charms, Potions, Runes, and Herbology. I haven't decided yet about Transfigurations and Arithmancy," she said.

"You're certainly smart enough to attempt them," Lucius said. He was well aware that the youngest of the Black sisters was arguably the most intelligent. She hid it behind her smiles and those pretty blue eyes, but she hadn't earned that Prefect badge by batting her eyes at Slughorn.

"I just don't want to overburden myself," she said but smiled. "Not looking for an empty headed society wife then?" She looked up at him.

"You're certainly not that," He shook his head. "My wife will be Lady Malfoy, and she needs to be clever, charming, and able to assist me with my political career. I require a partner, an equal, and I do believe you will be that," he paid her the very best compliment he could. "Your beauty just leads fools into underestimating you, like that poor boy Higgs last year," he winked, remembering just how frightening the petite witch beside him could be.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," she smirked. "The poor boy merely fell off his broom," she shrugged elegantly.

"Yes, our star Seeker just happened to fall off his broom, completely on his own," he snorted.

"He should have kept his hands to himself," she said. "A problem he no longer seems to have now."

"I'd imagine the two broken legs he sustained had something to do with that," he said.

"Perhaps," she grinned as they continued their walk. She'd never have thought about Lucius on her own, but now that it was all arranged, the pieces lined up in a rather neat way. Unlike her sister's matches, they were much closer in age. The Lestrange brothers were nearly ten years older than Andromeda and Bella, and she knew first hand that it had caused its share of difficulties.

"My father will be sending the bonding gift to me this week, I hope that platinum and diamonds are to your tastes?" He asked, breaking into the comfortable silence.

She smiled. "I'm sure it will be beautiful," Narcissa reassured him, a little surprised to see behind his usual arrogant façade. "I am…nervous, about all of this," she admitted quietly, willing to give him something after his own show of vulnerability.

Lucius nodded and headed over to a spot under a beautiful oak where the elegant rise of a root had created a natural bench. He cast a cushioning charm on it and sat down, bringing her with him. "This is a big thing, for both of us. I would be surprised if you weren't," he said, taking her slender hand in his. "When we're alone, I would like us both to be honest with one another. There are things happening that might make it impossible for us to have that with anyone else," he wasn't sure how much she knew about what was brewing.

Narcissa nodded. "I would like that," she took a deep breath. "I know Bella's part of it, but if we're to have a family one day, I don't think that it's wise for us both to be so involved," she knew the Dark Lord was involved in dangerous things and if there were ever children to consider, at least one of them would need to remain apart from it.

Lucius nodded and reached out with his other hand, tracing his thumb along her cheekbone. "Clever and beautiful, if I'm not careful you'll end up running the world before anyone notices you've taken over," he smiled, having the strangest feeling in the pit of his stomach that this witch was his father's apology for all that had happened in the last year. She was from an impeccable family, but more than that she had a true softness to her underneath her steely, Slytherin exterior. He could see himself standing beside her, a true partner as he moved forward in life.

Narcissa leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just enjoying the simple innocence of the moment. It would be some years before they were married, but she hoped that in that time they would come to grow closer. She didn't want to just be a pretty ornament for Malfoy Manor. No, she wanted to be his partner, and his equal.

~Fin~


	14. Escape Together

**A/N: Written for Round 3 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Escape]/Prompt: Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius)/Word Count: 647**

 **This is set around the end of March/beginning of April of the Marauder's 6** **th** **year.**

 **o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o**

Sirius was shaking. It was pouring rain and the letter in his hands had all but disintegrated. He'd been disowned. He could never go home again, and he was a Black in name alone. After the mess at Christmas, he'd run away to the Potters. Charlus Potter had simply looked at his bloody and bruised face and placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him that as far as he was concerned Sirius was his son now too. Aunt Dorea had healed his hurts and simply had a room permanently made up for him. There had been no word from his parents since that night in December, until now. Regulus hadn't even been able to meet his eyes this morning, and now he knew why. He rested his head against the rough stone and just cried. After a long time, he felt hands turning him around and pulling him into a fierce hug.

"Mooney…," he whispered, voice breaking roughly.

"Shhh, come on. You're going to catch your death out here," Remus wrapped an arm around him and led him back towards the stairs that would take them down from the top of the Astronomy tower. Sirius was in no shape to go back to the Common Room so he headed for the fourth floor, using his sharp senses to avoid anyone still out at this hour.

As they passed an ornate mirror, Remus paused and ran his fingers along the edge. There was a little lever and as he tripped it, the mirror swung out and they were able to duck inside. The Marauders had made this a cozy little hide-away. It was a great place to hide from Filch when the man was on the prowl, or the Slytherins when they heat was on after a particularly epic prank. They'd transfigured a few large, overstuffed couches against the one wall. The blankets tossed across them were crimson and gold.

Remus unfastened Sirius' cloak, peeling the soaking wet material off him, and throwing it over an old coat rack that had been in the space when they'd found it two years ago. He cast a quick drying charm over his friend and settled him on the couch, wrapping a warm blanket around him. "Better?" He asked quietly.

Sirius nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and just listening as Remus moved around the space. He only opened them when his friend came to sit beside him. He shifted a little and rested his head on Remus' shoulder, needing the closeness of his friend. Remus was the only one that could make him forget, make the world melt away just by being there. "Mooney?"

"Yeah Padfoot?" Remus' lips quirked into a smirk, having an inkling of what he wanted.

"Be my escape? Just for a while?" He whispered. This had become their thing, something that either could ask for when they really needed it. It had started by accident, one night when Remus had just been so lost in his own misery after the full moon that all Sirius could think to do was lean over and kiss him. It never went much further than that, but those moments were a brief reprieve from their troubles. The madness of the werewolf, and the utter insanity of his family had made these stolen moments increasingly more necessary.

"I'll always be your escape Sirius," Remus whispered and leaned down to catch Sirius' lips in a soft kiss. It was just a whisper of skin, at least to begin with. Heat built as their lips parted, each exploring the other's mouth. Tonight Sirius' responses became more demanding, more desperate. He didn't fight as his friend pressed him back on the couch, a hand tangled in his hair. Tonight Sirius needed more than kisses to flee the pain his family had caused him, and Remus was more than happy to give it.

~Fin~


	15. Tea And Revelations

**A/N: Written for Round Three of the House Points competition, representing Slytherin House. Prefect's Bonus Entry. Category: Short Story/ Prompt: Great-Grandma Granger's Tea Set / Word Count: 1134**

Latin Translation – You may break me, but you shall not bend me

o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o

"Hermione, could you come into the living room for a moment?" Jean Granger called for her daughter.

Hermione had been reading a book in the study, but she set it aside and headed into the living room. It was good to be home after such an eventful year. She counted herself lucky to not have been caught helping an accused mass murder escape the Ministry honestly. This had been a year of growth for her in more ways than one. As she entered the living room, the look on her mother's face brought her out of her musings. Her eyes caught sight of an ornate wooden box sitting on the coffee table and a little envelope sitting on top. "What's all this mum?" She asked, coming and sitting down.

"This belonged to your Great-Grandmother Granger. Your father and grandfather never had any sisters, so this has been waiting for you," she smiled softly. "Your grandmother gave this to me for safe-keeping when you were born with instructions that it was to be given to you when you were old enough to appreciate it. You've grown up so much this last year, that I think it's time."

Hermione smiled and sat the letter aside before opening the box. Nested in padded royal blue silk was an antique china tea set. Hermione carefully lifted a delicate tea cup out and examined it. It was bone white, rimmed in gold. Around the scalloped bottom there were intertwined dark blue and gold feathers. She turned it over and saw a house crest on the bottom. There was something familiar about the crest, but she couldn't place it.

She put the cup back into its designated place, examining the rest of it. There wasn't a single chip or crack in any of the pieces, and every single one had that same crest imprinted on the bottom. The only place the crest was prominently featured was on the tea pot itself. Larger it was even more dramatic, the shield outlined in black, filled with royal blue. There was a golden sash with red birds on it, and three golden lion heads on the blue fields. Beautiful blue and gold plumes surrounded it. "It's beautiful," Hermione said softly.

"I know you'll take very good care of it," Jean said and leaned over, kissing her daughter's cheek. "I'll leave you to read the letter."

Hermione nodded, watching her mother stand and leave the room. Hermione picked up the letter, frowning a little. It was sealed with dark blue wax, set with the same crest as was on the teapot. Across the front was merely written elegantly _'Miss Granger'_. She frowned and broke the wax seal, pulling out the creamy parchment. Little alarm bells were going off in her head as she unfolded it, the elegant slant of the writing far too refined to have been from a fountain pen.

 _To Miss Granger,_

 _If you able to read this letter, then the dreams I had while I carried my son have proven true. I prayed endlessly that one day magic would return to my descendants, and in that dream I knew that the first girl born to my son's son would be a witch. While I was not fully a squib, my magic was such that I never garnered a letter to Hogwarts and was consequently hidden from our world. My parents were not cruel, but they knew the stigma that came with being born without magic, and did not wish for me to grow up that way. I was sent to live in the muggle world, and met my Thomas. Love, I have discovered, is a greater magic than any I could have wished for._

 _I'm certain it will be a shock to discover that you carry magical blood, likely believing that you are simply Muggle-born. Our family is very old, one of the ancient and noble houses of Britain. We can trace our beginnings back to before the Norman Conquest. My maiden name was Evangeline Theodora Nott. Hidden in the bottom of the tea chest is a little compartment with my mother's wand, and the locket that she gave me when I turned 16. While I am certain you have your own wand, it is a tradition in our family for the Mother to pass her Family wand on to her daughter, as a secondary one to use for ritual magic. The wand and locket will be sufficient to prove your connection to our house, and I would encourage you to write to your relatives so that they know that Magic has returned to a line they considered lost._

 _To open the hidden compartment, prick your finger and let a single drop fall onto the middle red bird on the crest that covers the latch. The tea set itself is charmed to be unbreakable, and is also a traditional gift for a young woman in our family._

 _May your magic be strong, your will indomitable, and your heart true in all endeavours you undertake._

 _Your Ancestor,_

 _Evangeline Theodora Granger-nee Nott_

Hermione's hands were shaking as she came to the end of the letter. She was related to the Notts? She carefully unpacked the tea set and lifted the padded form out to reveal a silver family crest. There was a sharp point on the tip of the shield and she used it to puncture her finger, dropping blood onto the middle bird. Her eyes widened as the crest glowed and the hidden compartment opened. Inside was a beautifully carved wand and a gold locket. She pulled the locket out and laid it in her palm. The front was etched with three birds, pursued by three lions, intertwined in a never ending chase. The back depicted the Nott family crest. She opened the locket to find Latin script, _Frangas non flectes_. She smiled softly understanding the meaning. It meant that nothing could sway them once they were set on a course, not even if they were broken down. After a moment's hesitation she slipped the locket on, letting it settle against her skin.

The wand was incredible, looking more like polished ivory than wood. The handle was adorned with a vine motif, interspersed with tiny flowers. She picked it up and felt a strange warmth run through her. It wasn't exactly like her own wand, but this felt just as right in its own way. She reluctantly set it back down, but something deep inside her really didn't want to. Hermione sighed, thinking about the implications of this and how much could change if she did as the letter suggested. She wasn't sure if she'd reach out to them or not, but it didn't hurt to keep this piece of her family history. After all, it was a very pretty tea set.

~Fin~


	16. Turning From the Light

**A/N: Written for the Second Bonus Round in the House Points competition representing Slytherin House. Word Count: 1084**

 **Marauder's Era**

 **Prompt 1 - Sometimes the right decision is the hardest.**

 **Prompt 2 - He/She was the only one who ever understood him/her. But now he/she was gone**

 **o.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.o**

Severus hit the ground hard, face burning with embarrassment at the laughter surrounding him. The whole school had seen it, his utter humiliation. Bad enough that the Marauders always came at him four on one, but this time Bloody Potter had used HIS spell against him. A spell he'd crafted on his own, poured his own magic and energy into. There was no greater violation than having that twisted back on him. He'd used it on Black last week, Potter must have watched the wand movements and heard the incantation. He really needed to master non-verbal casting. He could see Lily standing between him and his tormentors, and not for the first time. What he did see for the first time was the dark glitter of true anger in Black's eyes as he looked at the petite red-headed witch. Always before there had been amusement, or exasperation on the faces of the Marauders when Lily had put herself in the middle of their arguments. The look Black was giving her right now was one he reserved for people like Severus.

Time seemed to slow down for Severus and he realized what he had to do. Elements knew he didn't want to. If he let her continue to be his friend, to put herself in the line of fire, eventually someone would let her have it. He felt tears stinging his eyes at the thought of her ostracized in her own House the way he was in his, tormented and bullied mercilessly. She could be so brave, but he knew how soft she was underneath. He could take it, had been since he was old enough to understand that his father hated him. Lily wasn't meant to live like that, and he refused to let her. He pushed himself angrily to his feet, channeling all his rage at Potter and Black into the words he forced himself to speak.

"I didn't ask for your help, you filthy little mudblood," Severus' acid tone hit her with a viciousness he normally reserved for the Marauders alone. He watched the blood drain from her face as she recoiled from him as if physically struck. He wanted to apologize instantly, but he couldn't. This was for the best. It was the right thing to do, no matter how hard it was going to be on them both. He needed to keep her safe, and to do that he needed to keep her far away from him. Lily was the light, and he would always be the dark.

Even James Potter was shocked into silence as Lily stumbled backwards and turned, running towards the castle. Severus was saved from further attacks as some of his Slytherin yearmates elbowed through the crowd, standing beside him and facing down the Marauders. Distantly he saw Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew turn away. Everything felt like it was happening through a mist, not entirely real. Avery put a hand on his shoulder steering him back towards the castle. Severus focused on making his feet move, and not tripping over them. He felt as if he'd been stabbed and was slowly bleeding to death.

He felt the cool air of the dungeons wrap around him as they headed back to the Common Room. He wanted to disappear back to his dorm room and hide behind his bed curtains while he sobbed his heart out. That didn't seem to be possible as Avery sat him down on the couch directly in front of the fire.

"You ok Snape?" Avery asked, his hazel eyes full of actual concern.

"Yeah," He responded, swallowing down his despair and trying to summon a look of cool indifference. He could *not* show weakness, not here. "You were right, it was time to get rid of her."

"I know it wasn't easy, but she was just going to hold you back."

Severus nodded. "Who needs her? Stupid little mudblood," he wanted to vomit as the words passed his lips.

"Not you. Old Lord Malfoy's been telling the Dark Lord about you, my father told me about it over Yule," he shared that bit of news. "Better to get rid of the dead weight now."

Severus nodded, eyes narrowing a little. There were whispers of course, but everyone was usually careful to avoid mentioning anything about the mysterious Dark Lord in open company. That he was being included signalled a shift in his position here in Slytherin. "Yes well…I need to review my Transfiguration notes before tomorrow. Excuse me," Severus stood and strode confidently across the room and went up to his dorm room. He headed into the bathroom and rested his hands on the edges of the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

The full weight of his choice hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd lost her. His Lily. Tears threatened again as reality crushed him under its incredible weight. She was the only one he'd ever trusted with the truth of himself. She knew him better than anyone else. She understood that he snarled and snarked at the world to keep everyone at a safe distance. She knew it was because he was afraid of being hurt. She was one of the few who'd ever seen him truly smile. All the little things she knew about him, and that he in turn knew about her, all of it was over. She was gone from his life now and he knew THAT with horrible clarity. He could cry, beg, plead, and she would never forgive him. Not for that word.

'Which is why you used it, you wretched dunderhead,' his inner voice mocked him. He'd pushed her away to protect her, and that was the most important thing. He was used to being unhappy and alone. For her, he could bear it. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over his face, hoping it would wash away the feelings plaguing him. Sadly it didn't.

With a deep sigh, Severus dried his face off and went back to his trunk and gathered his Transfiguration notes. Books were his favourite refuge. He sat against his headboard, reading about the finer points of human transfigurations. They wouldn't be even touching them until next year but he needed something that would actually challenge his mind tonight, rather than letting him dwell. He tried to focus on the theory behind partial transfigurations but the words on the page started to blur, obscured by the tears falling. 'Oh Lily, I'm so sorry…'


	17. When It's All Torn Away

**A/N: Entry for Round 4 of the House Points competition Representing Slytherin House.**

 **Category: Theme – Security / Prompt: Under the Bed [Setting/Situation] / Word Count: 700**

 **o.O.o.O.o.O.o.**

It was her mother's scream that woke her. Something in the tone send ice spreading through her veins. Hermione wasn't sure how she knew it was the Death Eaters, but somehow she did. She grabbed her wand as she ran to her window, opening it and throwing the curtains out to make it look like she'd fled. The footsteps were getting closer and tears were stinging her eyes. She had to think, there was no time to cry and fall apart. She rapidly twirled her wand, feeling icy fingers trail over her as the disillusionment charm spread.

She scrambled under the bed laying as still as she could. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she was certain they would hear it. She tried to control her breathing as the door to her room opened, swinging inwards. Hermione could see two sets of black boots stalk across the floor. She watched as one hurried to her window, and then there was a stream of obscenities in a language that she didn't readily recognize. The voice that spoke next made her heart stop dead in her chest.

"Too hasty Dolohov. I told you we should have employed a Morpheus charm over the residence before entering."

"I'll find her, she can't have gotten far on foot."

"Remember, the Dark Lord wishes her alive and unharmed," Severus' smooth voice curled through the darkness in the room. He placed particular stress on the word 'unharmed'. "I will do a more thorough search of the home. She may simply be well concealed. The girl is practically a walking compendium of spells."

"Very well. Send the signal if you find her, and I will do the same," the man snapped and stormed out of the bedroom.

Hermione felt hot tears slip down her cheeks. There was no way the Professor would miss finding her. She didn't know anything to evade a homenum revelio spell and she knew full well that he'd be a fool to not cast it. While she waited for the inevitable, her mind drifted to the fact that her parents were dead. She couldn't think of any way that they were still alive. Her mother had probably been up late reading a book when they'd entered her bedroom. That would account for the scream. Hermione bit down hard on her lip to stop the sob caught in her throat. They were gone, her family, her home, and likely her life. Everything she knew had been torn away from her in a single terrifying moment. It felt like she was falling, and she didn't think that was anything that could keep her from crashing to her death now.

"Do come out Miss Granger. I'd rather save us both the indignity of trying to pull you out from under the bed," the Professor's voice was tired, and laced with sadness.

Hermione let out hopeless sob, dragging herself out from under the bed. "How could you?" She whispered, bitterness colouring her words.

Severus Snape merely plucked her wand from her hand, and hauled her up to her feet. "I had no choice, Miss Granger. I'm afraid that as of this moment, neither do you," his eyes contained a great deal of pity. "You will kneel before the Dark Lord tonight Miss Granger, and I advise you to do whatever he asks of you. For the moment he values your life, enough to restrict us from inflicting any physical harm on you. Pray he continues to value it so highly."

She struggled against his grip, feeling his fingers dig in harder. "Never! I'll never kneel to him!" Hermione's tirade was cut off as her Professor struck her, a casual backhand across the face. She blinked at him, shocked into silence.

"Then you will die," Severus' black eyes bored into hers. "Dead you're of no use to anyone. Think on that." He shifted his eyes to the window and dragged her with him. " _Morsmordre_!" He cast the dark mark with a casual flick of his hand. He wrapped an arm securely around her and apparated to where the Dark Lord was currently holding court. Sadly, Miss Granger would not be returning to Hogwarts this year.


	18. Riddles and Sugar Quills

**A/N: Written for Round 4 of the House Points competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Fred/Hermione [Couple] / Word Count: 895**

 **Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you.**

 **Baby you light up my world like nobody else**

 **The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed**

 **But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell**

 **You don't know, you don't you're beautiful**

 **That's what makes you Beautiful**

 _What Makes You Beautiful ~ Glee Cast_

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

The first gift appeared just after Halloween. A wrapped box of sugar quills tucked into her book bag. It had been tied with a little gold ribbon over the matte black paper, and there'd been no note. A bevy of detection charms had revealed them as perfectly safe to eat. She simply couldn't fathom who would be giving her anonymous gifts.

Two weeks later, a non-descript school owl swooped low over the table at breakfast. It dropped a little package, also wrapped in black with a gold ribbon. This time there was a little card. She opened it and smiled to herself. _'There is a house. One enters it blind but comes out seeing. The answer is where we met.'_ She grinned a little more and opened the package. Inside was a little pot of her favourite cobalt blue ink. She only used it for her study notes, and someone would have to be very familiar with her study habits to know what colour she used. Tucked beside the ink was a second, smaller wrapped package.

Harry had picked up the note and frowned. "What's the answer?"

"School of course," Hermione rolled her eyes. It was so obvious. It was an ancient Sumerian riddle actually. Whoever had sent it clearly was well acquainted with ancient texts. So someone intelligent. "I'm just going to put this up in the dorm before class," she said and got up from the table, not wanting to open the second part it in front of Harry and Ron.

Her feet took her to a little alcove on the second floor, and she sat down on the bench. She untied the ribbon and inside were a half a dozen chocolates, from a little place in Hogsmeade that she loved. It had opened beside Madame Pudifoot's last year and it was all artisan chocolates. As a matter of precaution she cast a basic detection spell on them but they were perfectly fine. She bit into one and closed her eyes. These were her absolute favourites. Whoever had sent them was either incredibly lucky, or they knew how much she loved mint creams. She saw something under the chocolates and she unfolded another piece of paper. It was blank but she tapped it with her wand and ink began to spread over it.

 _I would meet you by moonlight, where we gaze at the stars. Come tonight, between dinner and curfew. ~Your Admirer_

Hermione pressed the note to her chest. A little thrill curled through her stomach. She still didn't know who it was, but that was part of the thrill. Last year with Viktor she'd gotten a taste of what it felt like to be seen. Until he'd started sitting next to her in the library, no other boy had ever looked past the bushy hair or the inkstains on her fingers. This felt the same, exciting and unexpected.

o.O~Later That Night~O.o.

Hermione bit her lip as she climbed the last steps to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Her mind was spinning as she stepped out into the open air. Dozens of little candles were floating around in the space and she nearly stopped breathing when she saw who was standing there waiting for her. "Fred."

"You always know," A smile stole across his face, much softer than his usual trickster trademark grin. "I never could fool you. I've been trying to think of a way to tell you, and this was what came to mind."

Hermione walked over to him. "How long?" She'd never known he felt like this about her. She wanted to brush it off as one of his pranks, but there was something in his eyes that made it all very real.

"Since the Quidditch World Cup," a blush stole across his face. George had told him if he didn't stop moping over her, he was going to declare a twin prank war. After the carnage that their one and only twin war had wrought in second year, no one wanted to see that again. "So, Granger, want to dance?" Last year's Yule Ball had been near torture for him, watching her with Krum when he wanted to be the one dancing and laughing with her.

Hermione reached out, taking his outstretched hand. "There's no music," she was trying hard not to laugh at how ridiculous this was.

"No music she says. What's that I wonder?" Fred grinned as music began to fill the air, coming from an enchanted gramophone. It was the same song that had opened the Yule Ball.

Hermione felt her laughter melt away as he pulled her in closer. She met his eyes as they started to waltz across the worn stone of the Astronomy tower, the candles flickering in the darkness. He was light on his feet, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all. She barely noticed when the music finally ended.

"I have a very important question to ask you, Hermione. Would you consider being my girlfriend?" Fred asked, looking down into her warm toffee coloured eyes. He could lose himself forever in her gaze.

"Yes." She whispered, and let her eyes flutter closed as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. The two were completely unaware of the misty-eyed Professor McGonagall, silently retreating down the steps of the Astronomy tower, leaving the young couple alone.


	19. Help Will Always Be Given

**A/N: Written for Round 4 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Helena Ravenclaw aka The Grey Lady / Word Count: 1857**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Salazar Severo Slytherin had made many mistakes in his life. He'd always known that someday his sins would return to haunt him, but he had never expected that it would be visited on the most precious things in his life. He pulled his cloak down around his face as he exited the secret tunnel into Hogwarts Castle. He paused a moment, listening for any hint of movement in the darkness, but there was only silence. He had not set a foot inside the walls in more than a quarter of a century, not since the night his daughter had been born. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, wrestling his pain and rage back under control.

He swept through the dungeons, a spell silencing the fall of his feet on the stones. It was strange being back here. The familiar caress of the magic that he and the others had laid into the very stones of this place wrapped around him like a long lost lover. He used his knowledge of the secret passages to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower. He stood outside her door and traced his hand against the wood, fingers lovingly lingering over the carved eagle that guarded her personal quarters. The eagle turned its head and fixed him with its gaze.

"I have four wings, but cannot fly, I never laugh and never cry; On the same spot I'm always found,  
toiling away with little sound. What am I?" It asked.

"A windmill, Master Eagle," he answered kindly. "Allow me entry to see your Lady."

"Master of Serpents, she waits for you. Enter, and give what comfort you can."

The door opened, admitting him into Rowena's chambers. His feet took him back to her bedroom, and he paused at the door. She was as beautiful as the day he'd first seen her, so many years ago. Her hair was still black as a raven's wing, spilling over her pillows. He watched as her inky eyelashes fluttered against her pale skin, opening to fix him with eyes bluer than the deepest seas.

"Salazar," she said softly.

"Rowena," he said in kind and came around to sit beside her, taking one of her hands between his own. "I came as soon as I heard."

"It's my fault. You warned me that he'd be the death of her, but I was so desperate that I didn't heed you," she whispered. "I wanted her back, just to see her one more time. I needed her to know that I forgave her. Why could I not see her again in this life?" Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Shh, you couldn't have known," he shook his head. "I will stay here with you, for as long as you need."

"Do you remember the night she was born?" Rowena asked him.

"How could I forget?" He replied. He lifted her hand to his cheek and pressed it against his skin. Her hand was so cold, it was like ice. His mind slipped back to that night, nearly twenty six years ago.

 _Salazar paced outside his beloved's bedroom, every scream and cry stabbing through him like a blade. Helga had sent word to him, one of her older students helping to sneak him into the castle past a paranoid and watchful Godric. He knew he was tempting fate to return so soon after his dramatic departure, but he needed to be here tonight. He could never claim Rowena as his own, not now that things had gone past the point of safe return. Her line deserved to carry on, her name to go forth in celebration of her accomplishments. This child would be hers, regardless of his blood flowing in its veins. They had debated this many times after she'd discovered she was with child, eventually logic had prevailed as he knew it would._

 _His mental musings were halted as the screams of an infant pierced the night. He turned and looked to the bedroom door as it opened. Helga stood there looking tired, but bearing a warm smile on her lips. "You have a daughter Salazar. Come and greet her," she gestured for him to come in._

 _He walked through the door, and felt weak in the knees as he saw his Rowena holding a tiny bundle against her breast. He approached the bed and reached out a hand, brushing his fingertips against the baby's pink cheek. "She's so small, but so perfect," he let every ounce of wonder in his heart show through in his voice._

" _She's ours, how could she not be?" Rowena smiled up at him. "Name your daughter Salazar. If she cannot bear your name, I give you the honour of naming her."_

 _Salazar looked down at his daughter and he could feel the tiniest touch of her magic against his. "Helena, our daughter's name is Helena Ravenclaw," he said. "May magic bless you, and protect you all the years of your life little one," Salazar leaned down and kissed her forehead._

"It was a moment that I will cherish until the very last day of my life," Salazar came back to himself, meeting Rowena's eyes. "Can you forgive me for leaving you both?" He needed desperately to hear absolution from her lips. He could tell that her time was short.

"I never blamed you in the first place, my love," she answered and closed her eyes for a moment, a shudder of pain passing through her. "After the duel…you could not remain, he made certain of that. You are here now, and you've always found a way to return when you were needed most. That is all that matters," a few tears leaked out of her eyes.

"I can ease your pain, if you allow it," he whispered, unable to bear seeing her like this. "Let me do you this one last kindness."

Rowena nodded quietly. "Please," the disease was slowly consuming her magic, rending it from her. There was no cure, and even Helga's ministrations only eased the discomfort temporarily. "I don't think I can bear it any longer."

Salazar stood and took off his cloak, and pulled a slender vial from an inner pocket. He sat back on the bed and shifted so that he was holding her against his chest. He offered her the vial. "There will be no pain, I swear that to you," he whispered.

Rowena took the vial, looking at the dark liquid contained within. "I love you Salazar, I always have," she said before breaking the wax seal on it. She brought it up to her lips and tipped her head back. It tasted bitter, notes of wormwood and baneberry lingered on the back on her tongue. She set the vial aside, already starting to feel a strange lassitude settle over her limbs.

"You will always be the keeper of my heart, my beautiful one. In this life, and in every other to come," he whispered into her hair as he felt her sag against him. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks, lost in the waves of her ebony hair. When he heard her last rattling breath leave her chest, he wrapped his arms around her and allowed the cries of anguish that he'd repressed for so long to spill past his lips.

As the sky shifted from pitch black to soft gray, Salazar pulled himself from her bed. He laid her down, carefully smoothing her hair over the pillow. He crossed her hands over her breast and with care tucked the blankets around her. He conjured a bouquet of aconite, asphodel, and lily of the valley and laid it over her hands. "May magic guard your rest, and one day return you to me," he pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling his cloak up around him, hiding his face in shadow.

He was a wraith, sweeping through the silent halls in the empty hours before dawn. As he passed through the entrance hall, his feet ground to a halt. Standing there, a silvery presence was his daughter. He walked towards her. "Helena."

"Mother is gone," she whispered, a look of guilt and pain stealing across her face.

"Yes. She leaves the young ones to your care. This is your charge now," he said. "Guide them, challenge them, and keep a watchful eye always," he knew what held his daughter to this plane of existence, the guilt of her betrayal. She would wander these halls long after the bones of her parents were dust and gone.

"Those who have need of me, will have my aide," she said quietly, and then her eyes turned away as if looking at something unseen. She floated away, heading towards the Tower to watch over the baby eagles.

"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those that require it," Salazar whispered softly, knowing he would never return here again. Too much pain lived in these corridors for him, too much loss. He slipped back down into the dungeons, trailing his fingers along familiar stones. He saw some of the carved snakes slither alongside him for a while, whispering their sorrows to him. Ahead loomed another silvery figure that he knew all too well. His former student looked drawn, silver blood staining his robes. The ghost saw him and knelt.

"Lord Slytherin," the ghost intoned.

"You have shamed our House, you will wear your dishonour until the stones of this castle crumble into dust," he channeled all his rage into his words, ghostly chains wrapped around the young Baron's ghostly form as though summoned into existence by his words. "I bind you here, and task you with the protection of my young snakes and this castle as a whole. Do you accept your penance?"

"Yes, my Lord," he rose from the ground. "Until the castle crumbles into dust and is no more."

Salazar turned and walked away, slipping out through the secret passage that led out into the Dark Forest. A Thestral came out of the gloom, pressing its head against his chest. "I'm afraid this is goodbye old friend," he whispered and rubbed around its ears. The old stallion had been a companion in their younger years. "Guard your mares well, they leave us too soon," he whispered and stepped back, looking around for a long moment. His eyes lingered on the silhouette of the castle, gazing at the Ravenclaw Tower as the early morning light began to kiss the stones. He had lost everything to this place. His students, his love, and even his own daughter. He knelt and pressed his hand to the ground, conjuring a young tree from the earth. It was a Snakewood, as the young limbs began to twist and grow he removed a ring from his finger, the one he'd always meant to give to his daughter, and pressed it into the wood, watching as it was swallowed by the magical tree. This would be Helena's monument, the only one he could craft for her. His final task complete, he turned away from the school he had helped build and disappeared into the swirling mists of history.


	20. An Offer You Can't Refuse

**A/N: Written for Round Four of the House Points Competition, Representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story (Prefect's Bonus Entry) / Prompt: Receiving A Letter / Word Count: 1129**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Hermione was sitting outside under one of the big oaks down by the Black Lake. She was currently at Hogwarts, still recovering from her brush with death at the hands of Antonin Dolohov. Professor Snape had been in charge of her recovery, having infinitely more experience with dark curses than Madam Pomfrey. It had been nearly three weeks since the other students had left, and she was currently taking ten different potions a day to heal the damage done to her body, and to prevent the curse from becoming active again. It was still flaring up from time to time. She'd finally been given permission to go for short walks, so she was soaking up the warmth and sunshine.

A barn owl swooped down, landing lightly beside her. It had a letter for her. She cast a quick spell over it, checking for anything nasty. Ever since the mess in fourth year, that had become a habit with strange owl post. She still got the odd letter with curses or unpleasant substances on them. Every single time one showed up, she regretted not squashing Rita Skeeter like the insect she was. The letter was clean. "Sorry I don't have anything for you," she apologized to the owl and took the letter. It merely ruffled its feathers in annoyance and took off again.

She turned the letter over in her hands. It was sealed with black wax, a stylized letter 'S' set into it. She broke the wax seal and pulled out the letter. The handwriting was incredibly elegant, and she found herself quite curious about the contents.

 _Miss Hermione J Granger,_

 _I decided it was time to speak directly to you, in light of the unpleasantness at the Ministry a few weeks ago. You have my sincere apologies for the injuries you sustained. I fear Bellatrix unnecessarily escalated the situation, resulting in the injuries to you and your classmates. Now, before you discard this letter out of hand let me be perfectly clear that your life, and the lives of your parents who currently reside at Number 312 Sheldon Avenue, Heathgate, do most assuredly hang in the balance._

 _While I could most certainly liberate my followers from their current imprisonment, I find it more useful to leave them there to contemplate their failures for the time being. Your mere survival of that night alone would be enough to merit my attention, Dolohov is a master duelist and not easily overcome. Yet after hearing so many tales of your academic prowess and uncanny ability to solve the many problems that come your friends' way, I had my people dig into your records. You can imagine my surprise to find that in the years since my attendance at Hogwarts, you are the first to come close to matching my accomplishments. I assure you, those two things combined assure that you have my undivided attention._

 _While many of my followers espouse the supposed superiority of their pure blood, I have found over the last century that the finest minds have been of somewhat mixed ancestry. I have always favoured ability over any other consideration, and you have most certainly proven your skills to be far above the norm. The common opinion is that you should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, and I honestly find myself rather curious as to how you came to represent the lion's house. Your achievements point to a deep desire to know and understand the very nature of magic, and achieve heights previously unfathomable to most. You desire to be the very greatest witch of the age, not just Harry Potter's clever Muggleborn friend. That is all you will ever be to him, to the Order, and those that consort with that crowd. You'll be rewarded with a pat on the head, marriage to one of the Weasley brood, and some menial job at the Ministry just to let them claim they are inclusive of those like you._

 _I can offer you so much more, Miss Granger. I can offer you unfettered access to any topic you desire to immerse yourself in. Tutelage from the very greatest minds in any given field. I can extend my personal protection to you and your family, something I am well aware the Order has not even seen fit to discuss with you. Certainly they have invited you to join them in safe location, because you are useful to the Potter boy, but not because they have any true care for you or your family. Have they even once spoken to you about the possibility of laying wards at your home, and their place of work to shield them from the attentions of my followers? I doubt it._

 _I realize the boy means something to you, either as a friend or perhaps something more. I cannot speak to what lurks in your mind, only in his. His mind is an open book to me, there is nothing I cannot take from it. Surely you see that he is hopelessly outmatched, and that it seems most conspicuously by design. Your beloved Headmaster is not all you seem to think he is. He has been preparing for my return since the night I disappeared and yet he left his greatest weapon to be abused and neglected. He allows him to fumble his way along, offering only half-truths and a smattering of information when he is forced to reveal it. He allows children to fight his war for him, and does not protect any of you. You are quite disposable to him Miss Granger, do not fool yourself into believing otherwise._

 _Come to me willingly, Hermione. Come to me and I will give you protection, knowledge, power, and respect. I will make all those lesser minds crawl to you, begging for your approval. All this I offer you, and all I ask in return is your willing submission to me. Do this and you have my word, on my magic, that I will never task you with harming the Potter boy. That is one thing I will not demand of you._

 _Consider my words, and in due time I will contact you. You will have only one chance to make your choice Miss Granger, so when the time comes consider your options carefully. You're an intelligent witch, and I would truly hate to kill someone with such promise._

 _Lord Voldemort_

Hermione folded the letter up, her face very pale. Every ounce of her heart rebelled at the mere thought of doing as he asked, but her mind was screaming at her that some of what he said made sense. She felt quite ill, stomach roiling in discomfort. For the first time in her life she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

~Fin~


	21. What's Good For Me

**A/N: Written for Round 5 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category – Themed (Discovery) / Prompt – New Career/Job [Prompt] / Word Count - 3125**

Harry took a long look in the mirror while he adjusted the neck of his new robes. They were a dark forest green, edged in black. His hair was longer now, hanging just a little below his jawbone. He smoothed it back off his face and fastened it securely at the nape of his neck. He no longer had his trademark glasses, having seen a talented Occularist this summer who had been able to repair his vision. He found it quite drastically changed his appearance, making his green eyes all the more noticeable. He was returning to Hogwarts today, starting his new path in life. It had taken him more than four years after finishing his Newts to figure everything out.

He'd spent his whole life trying to please other people. His childhood had been spent trying to please the Dursleys, a Sisyphean task if there ever was one. Then his entire career at Hogwarts, he'd been trying to live up to the ghosts of his parents, and the monumental expectations of the entire British Wizarding community. Right after he'd completed his Newts, he had been offered a job as an Auror. He'd accepted, as it had seemed to be what everyone expected. Ron had been so happy when they'd started training together, talking about how they'd go down in history as the best Aurors ever. He'd continued to date Ginny, going with her to party after party and posing for photographs. It had all been what everyone expected his life to be.

His first week out on the job as a fully qualified Auror, Harry had been sent to investigate reports of muggle baiting. What he'd stumbled into had been something out of his darkest, Voldemort inspired nightmares. Some of the dead wizard's supporters had gone to the home of the Monroes, a family that boasted not just one, but two muggleborn witches currently attending Hogwarts. What he'd found inside had left him in a cold sweat, wanting to simultaneously vomit and run away. The dark wizards had butchered the entire family, leaving them in pieces around the Christmas tree. Blood had painted the walls like some kind of macabre garland, and even now he had no idea how many people had been lying in pieces in the room. It was a disgusting panorama of arms, legs, torsos, and other unidentifiable bits.

Harry swallowed, filling a glass with water and drinking it down. The mere memory of that night enough to dry his mouth and close his throat, even two years later. He'd tendered his resignation the very next day. In that moment he'd realized that he didn't want that to be his life. He wanted to live, to find out who 'Harry' was past the veneer of the Boy Who Lived. Ron had been furious with him, not understanding his decision to walk away. Ginny had started drifting away from him as soon as he stopped going to the parties and balls, choosing to spend his days renovating the long neglected Potter's Mill, his family's ancestral seat.

The nine months he'd spent away from the constant hounding of the press, and pressure from the Ministry had been exactly what he'd needed. While the Potter fortune had been drastically depleted during the first wizarding war, he'd had enough of a cushion to take some time and think about what he wanted. The only one of his friends that seemed to really understand had been Hermione. Like him she'd taken a path less travelled. There had been options aplenty for the 'Muggleborn Heroine' as the press had dubbed her in the weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd had her pick of positions at the Ministry, an offer to teach Muggle-Studies at Hogwarts from Minerva, and dozens of offers for apprenticeships around the world. She'd accepted a Charms apprenticeship from the renowned spell-crafter Renaud Fillieux. She was currently living in the south of France, studying for her Mastery.

Hermione had urged him to consider taking an apprenticeship. He was a singularly gifted wizard, and there was no reason why he should not continue to learn and develop his skills in an area that had his interest. She'd been quite sure that no one would pass up the chance to assist Harry Potter in achieving a Mastery.

Harry smiled a little and left the bathroom, well aware that he was as ready as he was going to get for his first day as an apprentice. He shrunk down his travel trunk, all his belongings carefully packed into it, and slipped it into his pocket. He would have little time to himself over the next few years, and returning to the Mill would be a rare treat. He was going home, to Hogwarts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before apparating to Hogsmeade.

While he had grown accustomed to the bone squeezing sensation of that method of travel, it was still not a favourite of his. He remembered walking these streets as a student, the thrill it had been to escape the castle and come here for a butter beer, or to stock up on Honeyduke's chocolate. He could have apparated closer to the gates, but he wanted to have the time to order his thoughts before passing back into the one place he'd always felt he'd belonged. While his feet set off on an achingly familiar path, he let his mind wander to how he'd come to obtain his position as an apprentice at all.

 _~One Year Ago~_

 _Harry knocked politely on the door of an office he'd visited many times as a student. Professor Snape had returned to Hogwarts after a few years sabbatical following the war. The rumor was that it was not entirely by choice, but that the castle had flat out refused to acknowledge anyone else Minerva had tried to appoint as Slytherin's Head of House. The quarters had remained sealed, and each candidate's belongings had been perpetually re-packed, and re-located to the Entrance Hall. At her wit's end Minerva had tried talking to the Sorting Hat about the problem, and he had informed her that Hogwarts wished for the return of Severus Snape and would accept no other._

" _Enter."_

 _Harry pushed open the door and nodded politely to the man who had sacrificed so much for everyone. "Professor, you're looking well," he said. The man truly did look much better. He'd lost the yellow sallowness to his skin, and some of the lines had been all but erased from his face. He supposed that serving two masters for so long had to take a physical toll as well as the obvious mental one._

" _Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?" The slightly mocking tone in his voice was familiar._

" _I was hoping I could speak to you about a few Potioneers that I am considering apprenticing under," he said._

 _Severus eyebrows rose dramatically. "I was unaware you had such an interest."_

" _It's not something I realized I had until I took some time to really think about my future." He said honestly._

" _Very well, sit. Mipsy! Tea for two please." Severus said to the little elf who popped in._

 _Harry settled into the chair across from the Potions Master. He wanted to learn from the best, but Snape wouldn't ever hand him something just because he asked for it. He helped himself to the tea and little chocolate biscuits that appeared between them._

" _So, who's offered to take on the famous Harry Potter?" Snape drawled, mentally running over which Masters were currently lacking an apprentice._

" _Master Fawley, Master Dent, and Master Scrivens have all made offers. While I've checked their qualifications, I know that I am beyond a novice and would prefer to hear your thoughts on their actual merits." He said, having spent days going over exactly what he wanted to say. He wasn't being deceitful, all three men had offered to take him on after he'd made a trip to the Society of Potioneers, and been seen perusing information on the Mastery exam and application process._

 _Severus looked actually moderately impressed. "While all three have their merits, I'm certain what you are most interested in is their deficits," he paused to sip his tea. "While Peter Fawley is an accomplished Potions Master, he has a reputation for riding roughshod over his apprentices. Of the six he's had in the last decade, only one passed their Master and I believe the young man did it out of pure spite. Morden Dent is…uninspired, and bound too tightly by the rules. He lacks a true feel for the art. Though if you aspire only to brew standard potions as a hobby, I suppose he would be sufficient," his upper lip curled in contempt of the man. How he'd ever earned a Mastery he would never know. A part of him wondered if the examiner at his final testing owed the man's family a debt of some kind. "And I would hardly call Hubertus Scrivens a master at anything other than stroking his own bloated ego," the pure disdain dripping off his words had been something formally reserved for Sirius Black and James Potter alone._

 _Harry's eyebrows rose. "So you'd advise rejecting them all?"_

 _Severus gave him a look that clearly said he was stating the obvious. "After your very public resignation from the Auror corps after a mere week, it is highly unlikely Mr. Potter that anyone truly worth learning from would consider accepting you as an apprentice. At least not until you had proved you were capable of truly committing yourself to the art," he held up a hand to forestall the argument he knew was coming. "Unlike many, I understand why you tendered your resignation. However, I am unconvinced that this is truly a path you wish to walk. I am willing to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong. You will assist me for two days each week, working no less than twelve hours each day. You will report to this office at six each morning, and will take your meals with me in the Great Hall. You will work diligently at whatever task I set for you, regardless of whether or not you see the point to it. At the end of the school year, we will revisit your desire to be apprenticed in the art of Potion Making. Is that acceptable to you?"_

 _Harry nodded. "In truth, it was more than I dared hope for Sir. What days did you wish me to be here for?"_

" _We will begin with Saturdays and Sundays, starting this weekend. You may end this arrangement at any time you wish, without any ill will. This is not a subject that many have the sheer perseverance to excel at," Severus said simply._

" _I look forward to learning from you, Sir."_

 _~End Flashback~_

Harry paused as he reached the gate, allowing himself a genuine smile as he saw who was waiting to admit him. The students would not return for another week, but Severus had been adamant that he arrive early and get himself settled before the little dunderheads returned. It was not his Master waiting for him though, it was Minerva standing there a small smile softening her normally severe face. He paused and nodded politely. "Headmistress."

"Welcome home, Mr. Potter," she said, gesturing for him to walk into the castle with her. "I cannot tell you how very proud of you I am. It takes great courage to cast aside the expectations of others, and find something that speaks to you."

"A part of me was afraid that killing dark wizards was all I was good at, all I'd ever be good for," Harry said quietly, betraying that truth about himself to the old witch. "It took walking into that house for me to realize that I wanted more from my life. I finally understood that I deserved to be happy, and hang what anyone else wanted."

"And that, Mr. Potter, is the hardest lesson we learn as we grow up," Minerva laid a hand on his shoulder and patted it gently. "Severus insisted that you be given rooms near his in the dungeons, but if they are truly not to your liking, I am certain we can make other arrangements."

"That's very kind of you Professor, but I prefer to be close to Professor Snape's quarters. Much of my work will be in the potions labs, and at the end of the day I'd rather not have to navigate dozens of flights of stairs, and masses of students," he chuckled knowing how it had to sound. At least he hadn't yet started calling them dunderheads.

"As you like then. How is Miss Granger? I understand you went to visit her in Nice last month," she allowed herself to ask after her other favourite pupil. She corresponded with the young witch regularly, but her letters were always quite formal.

"She's very well, her master has written to the French Charms Authority to allow her to sit her exam before the New Year. We celebrated my birthday on the French Riviera, and Bill and Fleur joined us with their children for a day out on a sail boat," Harry had never been out on the water, it had been a memorable experience.

"I haven't been sailing in an age," Minerva reminisced. "Well, give her my regards the next time you speak with her. I know that your time will be very much spoken for, but do try and enjoy being back home again Mr. Potter. We are quite happy to have you among us, and I expect great things from you," she took her leave of him in the Entrance Hall, heading off to see to some last minute paperwork for the coming term.

"Minerva was adamant that she be the one to meet you at the gate," Severus' voice came from the shadowed entrance to the dungeons. "Come, I will show you to your quarters so that you can get settled in. We will work a half-day today, I'm certain that you can manage to get your things sorted between now and lunch?"

"Yes, Master Snape." Harry said respectfully, aware that was how he was to address him now.

Severus snorted. "In private you may call me Severus, as I refuse to refer to you constantly as Apprentice Potter." He'd always despised the rigid formality of the formal mentoring process.

"Thank you, Severus," he said as the reached one of the many decorative archways. At the very top of the archway, rather than the generic Hogwarts crest like most others, was nestled the crest of Slytherin guarded by two intertwined runespoors. He was unable to help the smile that crossed his lips.

"These rooms have been used by the apprentices of the Hogwarts Potions Master for centuries, though it's been nearly ninety years since Hogwarts has had an apprentice living in the Castle," He tapped the top right corner of the archway and a door appeared. "You may set any password you wish by touching the crest with your wand and speaking your chosen word or phrase. You are not to entertain students in your quarters at any time, for any reason. You may entertain personal guests, but you must inform me ahead of time so I may obtain permission from Minerva," he said as they entered.

Harry smiled and took a moment to look around. There was a small but cozy sitting room with a large fireplace, and a pair of comfortable looking armchairs. There was a desk against the wall beside a door that Harry assumed led to his bedroom. The general colour scheme was in earth tones, nothing overtly skewed towards one house or another. There was an empty bookcase built into the wall, and he knew it would easily hold all his books with room to space. "This is will be perfect Sir."

"I'll leave you to get unpacked, and meet you in the Great hall for lunch," Severus smiled a little. Once Harry acknowledged him, he turned and left the young wizard to get himself sorted.

Harry went to the door and opened it to find a narrow hallway. There were three doors. Inside the first room was a small personal lab, complete with a supply cabinet that seemed to be warded against accidental explosions. The next door led to his bathroom, and the final room was his bedroom. There was a four poster bed, much larger than the one that he'd slept in all those years in Gryffindor Tower. It was hung with forest green curtains but edged in gold. He took his trunk out of his pocket and resized it. A flick of his wand and it popped open, books stacking themselves neatly on the bed and clothing going into the wardrobe and hanging itself up nearly. He levitated the books out to the sitting room and got them on the shelf. His smaller possessions he took from the trunk and put away by hand. He set up the desk with new parchment, quills, ink, and a pen knife to keep them sharp. His limited personal potions supplies went into the lab, and he got everything organized neatly. He couldn't help but think Hermione would be proud, he'd finally realized the value of everything being in its proper place. He'd come to understand that one of the many things that had always bothered him about Ron was his inherent disorder. He loved his friend like a brother, but sometimes he just set his teeth on edge the way he just tossed shit wherever he pleased.

The finishing touch was the pictures he settled onto the mantel over the fireplace. There was a picture of his parents, one of him this summer with Hermione on the boat, a few with Ron, and a picture of Sirius and Remus at Grimmauld Place the summer before Sirius had died. His new home complete, he sank down into the armchair to rest for a minute, likely his last quiet moment until he successfully wrote his Mastery exam. It was incredible to him that after everything that had happened, all the placed he'd been and the battles that he'd fought, Harry had finally come full circle. He was home, starting the next chapter of his life where everything had begun. This felt right in a way that being an Auror never had, and he was grateful for the chance to get to know the wizard that had sacrificed so much without any intention of surviving to be rewarded for it. He could only hope that at the end of his journey, he was half the man that Severus was.

~Fin~


	22. When Tomorrow Comes

**A/N: Written for the house Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Tomorrow [Word] / Word Count: 408**

o.o.O.o.o

Tomorrow was such a beautiful word, or so Hermione had once thought. It held possibility, a promise of things to come: new things to learn, new experiences with her friends, and a chance to dream new dreams. She'd never understood how terrifying that word could be. Tomorrow she was being taken before Lord Voldemort. When Dobby had taken Ollivander and Luna out of the Malfoy dungeons, it had triggered the wards. Harry and Ron had been able to escape, but Bellatrix had apparated away with her before they could get to her. The crazy witch was certain that she knew something, and wasn't letting her go until she found out what it was.

Tonight Hermione was huddled in the corner of a cold, damp cellar. The only door was heavily warded, and had shocked her horribly when she'd tested it earlier. Her arm throbbed painfully from the word that Bellatrix had carved into her flesh. She didn't know how many days ago that had been. The skin was hot and tight, and Hermione knew unless someone tended to it soon, she might die from an infection. A small, slightly manic laugh trickled from her lips. She'd survived countless rounds of the Cruciatus curse only to die from some stupid infection.

She huddled in her dirty jacket, trying to keep warm. The lack of a window or clock left her floating in a strange kind of limbo. When would today become tomorrow? Her mind was drifting, and her lack of control over it was starting to worry her. Distantly, she wondered if this was how Frank and Alice Longbottom had lost their sanity, a bit at a time, or had it been more sudden? She shook her head, trying to drive that horrible thought away. As terrifying as meeting Voldemort was, dwelling on the fate of the Longbottoms as if it was meant to been to be her own was infinitely worse. The more she tried not to think about it, the more the vision evolved of her as a permanent resident of the Janus Thickley Ward. She was lost in her greatest personal nightmare when the door to the dark room opened.

"Get up, Mudblood!" Bellatrix's cruel voice lashed out at her.

Hermione lifted her head and forced herself up onto her feet, trying not to stagger. She gathered what little strength and resolve she had left, and moved forward to face her fate. Tomorrow was finally here.


	23. Hiding In Plain Sight

**A/N: Written for the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Missing Child / Word Count: 2536**

 ***B*R*B*R*B*R*B*R*B*R*B*R***

Barty Crouch was rather enjoying being Mad-Eye Moody, the way people looked away from his twirling magical eye, and the stench of discomfort and fear that rolled off them. It was practically intoxicating. One thing he was still trying to adjust to was the ability to see through glamours, and Hogwarts it seemed was full of them. From basic ones to hide blemishes and dark bags under their eyes, to some rather complex ones that popped out at him here and there. One of those multi-layered glamours was sitting in his classroom today. A lot of the older girls wore glamours to make themselves appear more attractive, hair a little blonder or lips a little fuller, but this was the first time he'd seen one had made the young witch plainer and less appealing than the true form he could see ghosting over the surface.

What made it even more unsettling was that something about the girl's hidden appearance was terrifyingly familiar. She was standing now, screaming at him to stop using the cruciatus curse on the little arachnid. He blinked himself out of his musings and approached her with the little creature. "Perhaps you'd like to give us the last curse, Miss Granger?" Barty asked, fascinated as the illusion of frizzy brown hair and a plain face floated over lustrous black curls, and stunning hazel eyes. He watched as she shook her head, tears in her eyes. "No?" He pointed his wand at the creature. "Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. Only one person has ever been reported to have survived it, and he is sitting in this room," Barty's eyes travelled over to the girl's friend, lingering on Harry Potter's brilliant green eyes. Distantly he heard the bell sound, signalling the end of class. "Class Dismissed. Miss Granger, you will remain behind."

Hermione angrily wiped at her tears and put her books into her bag while she waited for the classroom to empty. Using those curses in a classroom, it was unbelievable! The man was completely insane, that much was obvious. Poor Neville. She had been taught to always respect her teachers, but Hogwarts had shown her that teachers were not always to be trusted and respect needed to be earned. She fixed cool eyes on Moody as he came back to stand in front of her.

"You are aware that my eye lets me see through all types of magical glamours and disguises, correct?" He asked her and sat down.

"Yes Sir?" Hermione frowned, having expected a reprimand for speaking out of turn.

"Are you aware that you're currently under a very complex glamour?"

"What?" She frowned even more. "You must be mistaken Professor Moody, I don't use glamours. They are a frivolous waste of magic," Hermione shook her head.

"I'm never mistaken, but if you didn't apply it…that means that someone did." He said. "The question is, do you wish me to remove it? For you to never have known about it, this glamour has been in place since you were a baby, and as your parents are supposed to be muggles that would point to someone interfering with you and likely them." The longer he looked into her face, the more he was convinced that this was the child he and the others had been searching for that night the Aurors had taken them. The daughter that had been stolen from his dear friends.

"If you undo it, can you reapply it?" She asked, frowning a little.

"No." He said. "Only the person that originally cast the glamour can reapply it, but there is no way to know for certain who that was. It is very likely Miss Granger, that you are not who you've always believed yourself to be."

"I…I need to think about this," Hermione paled, realizing it might be true. "Is there any way for me to see through the glamour without removing it?"

He nodded. "Come with me," he said and stood, leading her up to his office. He took her to a mirror that was covered with a black cloth. "Stand there, girl," Barty nodded and moved behind the glass, pulling the cloth off. He watched her as her eyes widened, taking in her true reflection for the first time. This Mirror was enchanted in much the same way Moody's eye was, it would cut through all enchantments, including his Polyjuice potion and so he'd need to take care around this observant girl.

Hermione's eyes widened dramatically as she looked at a stranger staring back at her. Her hair hung in glossy black curls around her shoulders. Her cheekbones were higher, giving her face a more heart-shaped appearance. Her lips were fuller, and her eyes were no longer a deep chocolatey brown but hazel, tending heavily to amber with shades of green. She stepped forward and touched the mirror, something about it felt right…as if she'd always known there was more to her than this. "This is me?" She whispered.

"It is indeed, Miss Granger," he said.

"I want you to remove it," Hermione decided then. Now that she knew it was there, it felt wrong to let it continue.

"If you wish, I can have your Head of House join us while I remove the glamour?" Barty offered, wanting at least one witness to this.

Hermione nodded and felt a strange sense of loss as he dropped the sheet over the mirror again. "Please Professor," she said softly.

He shuffled over to the fireplace and threw a handful of powder in. "Professor McGonagall, could you come through?" He asked and they waited a moment for the Transfigurations mistress to join them.

"What is all this Alastor?" She frowned, unsure what could have occurred to warrant her presence.

"It appears Miss Granger is under the influence of a very sophisticated, and long standing glamour. She wishes it removed, and I have agreed to do so." He said. "We can worry over the origins of the glamour later."

Minerva looked stunned but nodded. "Of course."

"This may feel a little strange, but try and remain still," Barty said and raised his wand, using steady strokes as he dismantled the glamour one layer at a time. It fought him, but he wrestled it away, flinging the last strand to the ether and looking at the young woman standing before him.

Minerva sputtered, recognizing the very familiar features of the girl. "Sweet Circe! Alastor could she be?" She remembered the papers reporting on it just before You-Know-Who had fallen but it had been largely forgotten in the rush of Voldemort's defeat. The nearly two year old little girl had been stolen from the Lestrange manor after an attack on the home by unknown parties.

"The missing Lestrange girl, it's very possible." Barty gave her a suspicious look, knowing it was expected. With the haze of the illusion gone she looked uncannily like Bellatrix at that age, but it was Rudolphus' eyes staring back at them. "We'll need to inform Albus and contact the Aurors, there's clearly something sinister at work here."

Hermione was in shock as they spoke back and forth, and she let Minerva take her through the floo back to her office. She sat down and felt a warm cup of tea being pressed into her hand. "What's going to happen?" She finally found her voice enough to ask.

"The Aurors will come and administer a simple test to determine your identity. If you are who I think you are Miss Granger, they'll need to examine the memories of your parents to try and determine how you came to be hidden in the muggle world, and by whom," Minerva sat with the young witch who had long been one of her favourite little cubs.

Hermione nodded absently, realizing that her whole life had been a lie. Two Aurors were shown into the Professor's office after a while, and she made herself focus on them. One was a tall, dark-skinned man who gave her a welcoming smile, and the other was a serious looking older wizard who watched everything with sharp dark eyes.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger, my name is Auror Shacklebolt, and this is Auror Dawlish. Now I understand that you've had a bit of a shock, but we need to try and get to the bottom of this. We've taken Professor Moody's statement, and he was kind enough to give us his memories of removing the glamour. We'd like to administer a test to determine your identify. I'll need three drops of your blood to add to this vial and then we'll pour it over this piece of parchment," He explained slowly, seeing the young woman was fairly distressed. There were five names on the parchment, all open missing children cases from the right time period.

"Of course," Hermione nodded and offered her hand to the Auror to prick her finger and let three drops of blood fall into the vial. She watched with fascination as the clear liquid turned pinkish with her blood. As the Auror agitated the vial, the potion turned a pale blue and he poured it over the paper. The blue potion soaked the page and then gathered around one of the names, making it glow blue. _Cassiopeia Lestrange._

"We'll need to notify your next of kin since both of your parents are currently incarcerated." Kingsley said awkwardly. "Dawlish can you handle contacting the Malfoys? I'll get this filed at the Ministry."

"Incarcerated?" Hermione paled, looking at Professor McGonagall helplessly as the two Aurors left the office quickly.

"I'm very sorry, but both of your parents were supporters of You-Know-Who during the war and were sentenced to Azkaban for life." She went over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Your Aunt is Narcissa Malfoy, and Auror Dawlish will contact her now. I imagine she will be here at some point soon to see you, and will answer a lot of the questions you must have." She said softly. "We'll be here for you."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, fighting the urge to get up and run away. She accepted a cup of tea, able to taste the tell-tale notes of a calming draught in it. She felt some of the gripping panic ease and she sat quietly, waiting with the Professor.

It was an hour later when there was a knock at the office door. Minerva went and opened it to find a grave-faced Headmaster escorting Lady Malfoy. "Please come in." She said and opened the door a bit wider to welcome them into the room.

Narcissa entered the office and could barely believe her eyes. "You look so much like your mother…" She said softly, clearly resisting the urge to rush forward and pull her into a hug. "The Aurors explained what happened today and I'm sure you have a lot of questions." She said carefully.

"I do." She took a deep breath. "Professors….could I have some time alone with my Aunt?" She asked politely.

"Of course Miss Granger, we'll come back in little bit. Muffy, can you bring some more tea and some biscuits for them?" Minerva said quietly, giving Albus a stern look as they left.

The house elf popped fresh tea, and a plate of chocolate biscuits into the room with the two quiet witches. "Were my parents really Death Eaters?" Hermione finally broke the silence.

"Yes, they were. Though, things are not as black and white as some would have you believe. Both sides committed terrible acts during the war. Your kidnapping was only one," Narcissa said carefully. "Your mother and father loved you very much, and having you ripped out of their lives changed something inside them both. You were almost two when you were stolen away from them. Your mother was inconsolable for months. We knew you were still alive somewhere, and I'd always hoped to find you one day. I do hope that you'll be willing to get to know your family, blood matters in more ways than you can imagine. There are family magics, and other things that you will need to learn as you grow into your power."

Hermione nodded. "Would it be alright if you called me Hermione?" her voice was hesitant, both repulsed by the knowledge of what her parents were, and yet desperate to understand everything that had happened, and more than that, who she was.

"Of course," Narcissa said softly and reached over, touching her hand. "Things will be hard for a while, but I will be here for you. If you ever need help, you can write to me, or speak to Draco. I know you and he have had your differences, but he is your cousin and he will protect you. Professor Snape can be trusted as well, I am sure my husband will ask him to keep an eye on you."

"You think people will come after me because of who my parents are?" Hermione swallowed, coming to realize that she could be facing discrimination of a different kind now.

"They may, especially given what House you're in. Gryffindors do tend to react without thinking things through, I'm afraid," She gave her a small smile. "Though, I am glad you chose to take this particular chance without too much forethought," She allowed herself a little laugh.

Hermione found herself laughing a bit too. "I'll probably regret it from time to time, but I'm glad too," She admitted. It had been foolish to have Moody remove the glamour without thinking about it first, but she given in to her inner Gryffindor.

"I want you to have this," Narcissa pulled something out of her pocket and pressed it into Hermione's hand. "This belonged to your mother. She, your Aunt Andromeda, and I all received these the day we graduated from Hogwarts. Our mother told us that as long as we wore this, we'd carry our family near our hearts."

Hermione looked at the necklace. It was a silver chain with a delicate rose pendant carved from onyx. On the back of the pendant was the Black family crest. She took a deep breath and fastened the chain behind her neck and tucked the necklace under her shirt. It felt warm against her skin. "Thank you…what should I call you?" She asked then.

"You can call me Aunt Cissy," she smiled, feeling some of the worry ease from her heart. Her lost niece was finally recovered, her only sadness was that Bella was not free to see it. The loss of her daughter had gutted Bellatrix, and the woman left once the cloud of grief had past was not the sister she had grown up with.

She would do everything she could to protect her niece, and Merlin help anyone that tried to come between them now. Narcissa would find out who had hidden her in the muggle world, and kept this talented and powerful witch away from her family. When she found out who was involved, she swore by the blood of all the Blacks that had ever been, that she would destroy them. The lost daughter had been returned, and now the blood of their enemies would soak the earth and rejuvenate this new generation.

~Fin~


	24. Missing Pieces of a Life

**A/N: Written for the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story [Prefect bonus entry] / Prompt: Lost and Found / Word Count: 1834**

 **o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

Harry scrubbed at the tears on his face as he sat down on the bench. It was getting dark and his Aunt hadn't come back. She'd told him to stay put while she visited her friend, and if he wandered off she'd leave him here. He'd only left the bench for a minute. He'd needed to go to the bathroom pretty badly and he hadn't been gone long, but he must have missed her. He was going to be in so much trouble, and he didn't know what to do. He didn't see a policeman around, and really hadn't seen anyone since his aunt had sat him down on this bench and told him not to move.

It was an old park, the play equipment long rusted and forgotten. The grass was growing wild and there was a really large old tree down by the duck pond. Harry rubbed at his arms a bit as it got darker, the air starting to get cooler. It was almost fall and the warm summer days were starting to give way to cooler nights. As the sun sank below the row of houses up on the hill, Harry felt even more miserable and frightened. What was he supposed to do?

He heard footsteps on the pavement and his heart sped up. Maybe she had come back, to give him another chance to be a good boy. He'd try so hard! Then he felt his heart sink as a tall man strode down the path, a bag of shopping held against his chest as he hurried along. He swallowed and got off the bench, unsure if he should ask the man for help, or hide. He wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, or anyone really, but he needed help. He swallowed and called out. "Excuse me?"

Severus stopped and looked down at the small child standing there in the middle of the dark, deserted park. He was very young, dressed in ragged, oversized clothes. Wide, frightened green eyes looked up at him from under a long fringe of black hair. Poor thing couldn't have been more than five or six. Where on earth were his parents? "Are you lost?"

Harry nodded. "My Aunt was supposed to come back, but it's been hours." He could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

Severus frowned and looked around, seeing absolutely no signs of life anywhere. "I think you'd best come with me." He said, thinking that at least he could use his telephone to contact the local police, certainly someone had to be missing the child. "What is your name?"

"Harry sir, Harry Potter." The boy answered.

Severus nearly dropped his bag of groceries, stunned. "Well…Mr. Potter, come along and we'll get you in out of the cold and see if we can't locate your family." He said, walking slower so the young child could keep pace. What in Circe's name was Harry Potter doing abandoned in *this* park? Cokeworth was largely abandoned these days. There had been an attempt to rejuvenate the city's high street, and there were some new housing developments on the outskirts, but this area was devoid of most life. He only ever walked through this park because it reminded him of happier times. He spent the summers here, working on his own research in solitude. It was a good three miles to the shops but the walk was good for thinking things through. He only made this trip once a week, it was pure luck that he had found the child and not some vagrant or drug addict. He shuddered to think of what might have happened to him if he hadn't come along.

The young wizard was quiet while they walked out of the park, and Severus took the time to look at him objectively. He was small for what Snape knew to be his age of eight years, the baggy clothing only making the slight boy look even smaller. The boy's hair was long, looking in need of a good cut, there were shadows at the neck of his shirt that Severus suspected were bruises. It was extremely troubling. He decided to break the silence. "Is your Aunt's name Petunia Dursley?" He asked.

Harry's head snapped up. "Do you know my Aunt?" He looked surprised.

"Yes, I also went to school with your mother, Lily," he said. "I thought your Aunt lived in Surrey though?"

"She brought my cousin Dudley to visit her old friends. She told me to stay and play in the park and that she'd come back and get me, but she didn't," he said softly.

The child's admission created far more questions than they answered. "We'll see what we can do about getting you home Mr. Potter. My name is Severus Snape," he said and led the boy up the dark street of Spinner's end. He led the way to the dark, dingy, row house that had been his childhood home. Over the years he'd considered selling it, but the market wasn't favourable so he'd held onto it. The desolation of the area made for a most private retreat. He opened the door and gestured the small boy inside, ready for the look of disgust he was certain would come.

Harry stepped through the door and felt his eyes go wide. He'd never see so many books outside of the school library before. "You must really like to read, Sir," Harry said in awe. Bookshelves covered every single inch of wall space save for a large fireplace. He didn't see any doors, and wondered where they were hidden.

"Books have been some of my very best friends over the years, Mr. Potter. Do you know your phone number?" He asked. Most muggle children learned to remember those things.

Harry nodded, biting his bottom lip. "Yes Sir." He said and when handed a pad of paper he wrote the number down.

"Have a seat Mr. Potter. Do you like hot chocolate?" At the boy's nod he crossed the room, pressing a latch on a section of the wall and it swung out, revealing a passage to his kitchen. He put the kettle on the hob to boil, and measured out some chocolate powder. He went to the telephone and looked long and hard at the number on the piece of paper. He'd not realized that the boy was living with Petunia, Albus had always inferred that Harry was with Lily's Parents, doted on and cared for. Petunia had been a cruel, spiteful girl and he doubted time had changed her all that much. At best she was horridly neglectful, leaving a child alone in a place like this, and at worst she had purposefully abandoned the boy to his fate. He needed more information before he acted.

He went to his potion's kit and removed a slender vial, and added a little bit of calming draught to the boy's hot chocolate. At his age it would make him very drowsy, and once asleep he could better plan what to do with the boy. He had sworn to protect the child, and now that he had found him he would make certain he did just that. He brought the mug of hot chocolate out and offered it him.

"There was no answer at your home. I'll try again in a little bit Mr. Potter," Severus said.

"Thank you sir. I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Harry said softly and tried the hot chocolate tentatively. He'd never been allowed to try it before. It was very good.

"You're no trouble at all," he said quietly and went to the bookshelf and pulled out a worn photo album. "I believe I have some photos of your mother and me, when we were at school together," Severus said and came to sit with the small child. "This was your mother when she was just a little older than you," he showed him a picture of Lily sitting in her parent's front yard. The same bright green eyes shining up at him.

"What was she like?" Harry asked, eyes only for the picture of his mother. The first picture he'd ever seen of her. He thought he looked a little like her.

"She was fearless. She loved the colour green, and to play on the swings at the park. She'd jump off when it was at its highest. It used to scare her mother half to death," a small smile crossed his face. "She was my first real friend, and I miss her very much," he admitted to the little boy, her little boy.

"I wish I was like her," he whispered, feeling a little sleepy.

"I have a feeling you're more like her than you know," Severus said, seeing the child's eyes start to droop. He didn't show him any of the magical photos yet, not ready to have that conversation. "Finish your hot chocolate and then I'll go and try calling your aunt again."

Harry nodded and sipped his drink, smiling at the pictures of his mother. The nice man had pictures of what looked like a trip to the sea side. His mother was splashing in the waves with Severus trying to ward off the water with his hands. A girl that looked kind of like Aunt Petunia was sitting on the sand with a book, frowning at them. He finished his drink and handed it to the dark haired man and settled back into the couch, looking through the pictures.

Severus cleaned the mug and put it away. By the time he went back, the young wizard was sleeping on the couch. Severus grabbed a blanket and made the boy up a make-shift bed on the couch. He sat down in the chair and debated what he was going to do next. He'd lost so much over the years, lost Lily and if he were brutally honest himself as well. The child sleeping on his couch was a little piece of the past, come back to him. It was physically painful to imagine Lily's child living a childhood anything like his own had been, but the proof was written all over him. The ratty, too large clothes, and his half-starved appearance spoke volumes.

Perhaps in caring for the boy he might find some of those lost pieces of himself, rebuild some of what he could have been. Severus reached over and stroked the boy's hair off his forehead, feeling a strange wave of emotion hit him. He could take care of him, protect him the way he deserved to be. No one could know of course, but secrets had been his trade for so many years that it was practically second nature. Petunia clearly had wanted to be rid of him, and what sense was there in returning him to her like some lost kitten? Fate had handed him this chance, and if he lost it there was no guarantee he'd find another. "You'll be safe with me." He promised.


	25. Bumps in the Road

**A/N:** Written for the third Bonus Round of the House Points Competition. Representing Slytherin. Theme: A Letter /Prompt 1: "When we first met, you were younger," [Speech] Prompt 2: First Fight[Event] / Word Count: 1564

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Severus was pacing, back and forth, while he waited for his lover to arrive at her classroom. Their argument last night had been out of hand, and they'd both said some truly hurtful things. He cared very much for this witch, but she had just as sharp a tongue as he did and her barbs had cut deeply. He couldn't even put his finger on what had started the epic row. They'd been enjoying a quiet evening in his office. They both had mountains of essays to grade, and they usually set aside part of their evening to work on such things in quiet companionship.

She'd come over to steal a spare quill, and knocked over his ink. It had been an honest accident, he knew that, but he had overreacted. He'd snapped and snarked at her, cutting into her like he had back when she was a student. This Hermione Granger was not a student anymore, she was a 24 year old witch and she'd not given an inch of ground to him. She'd verbally eviscerated him, tearing at old wounds with vicious precision, and in the end he'd stormed out, unable to take a single syllable more. In short, he'd acted like a dunderhead.

He looked up as she entered, and he walked over to her. "Hermione…I must offer my apologies for last night." Severus held up a hand to pause her response. "When we first met, you were younger," he began, "much younger. You were my student, then an apprentice working under another Professor. Sometimes I forget how much time has passed, and that you are no longer my subordinate, but my equal. You are an accomplished, brilliant witch and you did not deserve the things I said last night. Please, do me the courtesy of reading this letter before you decide you want nothing more to do with me."

"Severus," Hermione tried to speak but he simply put the letter in her hand and swept out of her classroom. She sat down at her desk and stared at her name written on the cream coloured envelope. She didn't have a class until second period, so she did have time to read it. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope, unfolding the sheets of parchment covered in his distinctive script.

 _Hermione,_

 _As this may well be the last time you permit me such intimacy of address, I will make use of it. I have never been good at allowing people to get close to me, or at expressing my inner feelings through the spoken word. For much of my life either of those things would have brought me pain, or even death. I learned from a very young age to conceal my emotions. My childhood was somewhat closer to Mr. Potters than what I imagine yours was. My years at school only reinforced those early lessons. In the Slytherin dorms I learned to craft my mask, every sneer and raised eyebrow serving a purpose. My temper became a weapon and I used it to keep people away. If I could keep them at arm's length, they could not hurt me. Foolish perhaps, but it was all I knew._

 _I never expected to survive the final defeat of the Dark Lord. I was resigned to my fate that night in the Shrieking Shack, welcoming of the oblivion that death promised. I was so very tired. I had spent nearly twenty years dancing on a knife blade, caught between two powerful wizards that cared only for my usefulness to their individual ends. You may remember Albus as your kindly Headmaster, but he was not so different from his great adversary. He kept me here at the castle so he could twist the knife of my guilt whenever he felt that I was starting to believe I had some worth to my life beyond serving his needs. You can have no idea the hell I lived in during those years, and I am grateful that you never need to. I don't tell you this to illicit sympathy, I made my choices and have always been prepared to face the consequences of them. I simply need you to understand why I act the way I do, and not think that the things I say are reflective of how I view you as a person. Rarely do my words betray my true thoughts. Words were my first weapon, and still the one I reach for instinctively. I deeply regret all I said last night, I was cruel and thoughtless, and you deserve so much more._

 _You are quite simply the most promising student I ever had the privilege to teach. The day you accepted your apprenticeship with Professor Babbling, I admit I've never been prouder of a student. You stepped away from the expected path, from the offers driven by your sudden fame and dedicated yourself to the pursuit of further knowledge. You held your ground against your friends and detractors, and did what made you happiest. I never told you that I was the one that lobbied Minerva to extend the offer of employment to you, but I did._

 _You have a rare ability to connect with your students, and your reputation in the classroom has renewed interest a field that many have discounted over the last few decades. When you took the students to the forest to teach them about runes and ley lines, I followed to observe the lesson. You were in your element, and even I was enraptured. It was the first time I really let myself see you as an adult, to let myself consider something more. These last few months with you have been some of the most fulfilling in longer than I care to recall._

 _You are not a child, and more than capable of deciding what you want in life. I cannot promise that I will always be easy to deal with, or that I will never say cruel hurtful things again in anger. I know myself too well for that. I can promise that I will challenge you, and protect you. If you decide that you want me in your life, flaws and all, I will try and be the man you deserve. Even if I know that I am too old, and too damaged to ever be considered suitable for you, I will try and cede to your quite infallible judgement._

 _Yours,_

 _Severus_

Hermione stroked her fingers over his name, and wiped a tear from her eyes. She could almost hear his silky voice wrapping around her as she read his words. Even so many years after the war, there was so much about Severus Snape that she didn't know. She knew the difference in their ages bothered him, on likely a few levels. There were times it worried her, that she'd have nothing to offer the older, more experienced wizard as a companion. He was the only person still alive that could make her feel small and insignificant with a few words, and she knew that it was because she cared what he thought. She wanted him to approve of her, respect her.

She reached out and pulled a new piece of parchment out of her drawer. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of new parchment. It was something that she found nearly intoxicating, and it was little wonder that it featured prominently in what she smelled in Amortentia. She uncapped her ink and brushed the end of her black quill against her lips as she considered her words carefully. He was always so incredibly eloquent, words flowing off his quill like prose. She didn't possess that skill, and knew trying to mimic it was hardly appropriate.

 _Severus,_

 _I fear you will indeed need to cede to my ever so excellent judgement. I expect you for dinner this evening in my quarters, I'm certain Minerva can excuse us both just this once. As for your apology, it is of course accepted, though I believe the normal convention requires that it be accompanied by flowers. I also hope that you will accept my apology. I cross the line last night. Regardless of the provocation, I had no right to say those things to you._

 _The simple truth is that I care about you, very much, and that scares me sometimes. Neither of us are casual people. We're both used to being alone, and it's not easy to adjust our thinking to include someone else. We're going to make mistakes, and I'm sure that this won't be the only fight we ever have. I have a temper too, just ask Harry or Ronald. I can be stubborn to a fault, and lose sight of the forest for the trees. I have my flaws and I'm sure in time you will become well acquainted with them. You may not be particularly well-used to sharing your thoughts, but I would like to give you the opportunities to practice. Perhaps we can even begin that tonight over our meal._

 _Until this evening,_

 _Your Hermione_

Hermione cast a quick drying spell on the parchment, and folded it neatly. She slipped it into an envelope and called for her favourite House Elf to place it on his desk. This was a relationship she wanted to fight for, and she wouldn't let him talk them out of it.

~Fin~


	26. Come Back To Me

**A/N:** Written for Round Six of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Portkey / Word Count: 525

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Viktor led Hermione away from the press of the crowds under the wedding tent. He'd been so happy to see her, but more than that he was relieved to get the chance to give her a gift that he'd worked hard to procure for her. While everyone treated him as an empty-headed broom jockey, Viktor was a smart young man. He knew what was coming, and just how dangerous it would be for his beautiful friend to stay in Britain. He also knew that she'd never abandon her friend, Harry Potter.

"It's so good to see you again," Hermione smiled, flushed from the champagne and dancing.

Viktor lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her skin. "Fleur was kind enough to invite me. She knows how I feel for you," he said softly, meeting her eyes. He had worked hard to improve his English, wanting to be able to speak better when he saw her again. "Things will be dangerous for you in this war," he pressed a finger to her lips to stop her from speaking. "I know what is coming for you, and that you will be fighting it beside your friend. I know I can't stop you, but I want to give you something. This is only for you, and once it's on no one will be able to see it," Viktor reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. The chain was gold and very fine, and the pendant was a silver and gold dragon wrapped around a pinkish pearl.

Hermione took it, and at his nod she fastened it around her neck. It felt warm against her skin and then it disappeared. "What is it?"

"It's an emergency portkey. It will only work for you, and it's now keyed solely to your magic. If you are in true danger, with no way out, this will take you somewhere safe. All you need to do is say portus," he met her eyes. "Promise me you will use it if you need to."

Hermione met his eyes and felt a wave of something hit her. "Viktor…"

"Promise me, please Hermione," his dark eyes were incredibly intense.

Hermione found herself nodding. "I promise Viktor. If I need to, I will use it."

Viktor leaned down then and brushed a soft kiss over her lips. "Good, because after this Dark Lord is finished, I intend to dance with you at the victory celebration," he whispered, enchanted by the blush stealing over her cheeks.

"I'll save you a dance," she whispered, swallowing nervously.

"Perhaps I can steal one more tonight?" He asked. At her nod, Viktor drew her back out to the dancefloor, enjoying a slow dance with the most beautiful witch at the wedding. He knew her red-headed friend had designs on her, and he didn't know what the war would bring for them, but he had faith that his heart had chosen well. Hermione had stolen his heart in those quiet evening in the Hogwarts Library, and he intended to steal hers in return one day. He just prayed that the fates returned her safely to his arms.

~Fin~


	27. What You Need To Know

**A/N:** Written for Round Six of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Aberforth Dumbledore / Word Count: 1476

Canon up to the First Hogsmead weekend in Goblet of Fire.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Aberforth had long lived in his brother's shadow, his own talents and achievements measured against his older, more talented brother. People only ever saw Albus' good works, the bright and shining accomplishments of his life. They saw the discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, the vanquisher of Grindelwald, and the champion of the muggle-born. He snorted and tossed some grain to his goats. None of them knew the first thing about his brother, what lurked under the wholesome exterior. He was doing it again, playing with the lives of others. This tournament was archaic and cruel. It risked innocent children for the entertainment of others. It was something that Albus would never have allowed to take place, unless he had his reasons. Harry Potter's life was on the line, and clearly it was by his brother's design or he'd have put a stop to it. He would have stopped it, unless it was for his mythical 'Greater Good'.

Aberforth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He headed towards the more travelled parts of Hogsmeade, and that was when he saw the boy. Harry Potter was walking with his little muggle-born friend, the one with the messy curls and bossy tone to her voice. "Harry Potter," his voice carried, causing the boy and his friend to turn.

Harry frowned and turned, looking at the tall man. "Do I know you, Sir?"

"Name's Aberforth, I run the Hog's Head," he said.

"Aberforth Dumbledore. You're the Headmaster's brother, aren't you?" Hermione chimed in.

"Indeed I am, missy. I'd like a word with the both of you. I have some things you need to hear," his pale blue eyes flitted between the two of them.

"I guess…" Harry looked unsure but nodded. He and Hermione followed the tall wizard away from the busier parts of the village. They passed a few older wizards, smoking pipes and chatting quietly. The Hog's Head loomed, dirty and forbidding. There was a sign up declaring it closed for the day, but Aberforth opened the door for them. Hermione's nose scrunched up a little, looking at the dirt-encrusted bay windows.

"Have a seat," he said and found two butterbeers for the teens. "First and foremost, you need to know that your first task in this tournament will be to face a bloody dragon. They're bringing them in this weekend. From the look on your faces, no one has yet seen fit to warn you."

"A dragon?" Harry paled, feeling his breakfast threatening to make an appearance.

"That's barbaric!" Hermione shouted and turned to her friend, horror clear on her face.

"Indeed," he reached under his bar and handed a heavy book to the girl. "There should be something in there that will help you prepare him for that first task."

"Thank you, Mr. Dumbledore," Hermione said. "You said there were things you needed us to hear?"

"I did. What do you really know about my brother?" He asked them.

"He defeated Grindelwald, and organized the resistance against Voldemort in the first war," Harry said.

"He was one of the brightest students in his year of Hogwarts, and did some work with Nicolas Flamel," Hermione added.

"In short, you know next to nothing about the man who's controlling your lives," Aberforth sighed a little. "My brother is a talented wizard, that's true. Smarter than most, and sly as a fox. He's made his share of mistakes, and they've cost good people their lives. Including our own sister, Ariana." He nodded to the portrait of a pretty young girl. "When our sister was very young she was brutally attacked by a group of muggle boys, to the point where she became so traumatized that we could never trust her in public. She killed our mother with a burst of accidental magic when Albus was only seventeen. I was still in school, just finishing my Owls when it happened. I intended to leave school and care for her, but Albus was insistent that I complete my education. He stayed at home in Godric's Hollow to care for her, and that was where he met a young Gellert Grindelwald." He paused and saw the understanding hit them both.

"They were two of a kind, Gellert and Albus. Both brilliant, ambitious, and both felt shackled by society. Gellert had been expelled from Durmstrang for his experiments in Dark Magic, and Albus resented that he had to care for our sister instead of travelling the world. Together they began to plan a brilliant future, where they would rule over both the Magical and Muggle worlds, bending everyone to their will for something they came to call, 'The Greater Good'," his tone was sad. "After I finished school and returned home, I met my brother's new friend. I disliked him right off, and we would argue at the slightest provocation. One night it exploded into a duel. Albus got between us, but Ariana was killed. None of us were ever entirely certain who cast the curse that went astray and killed her, though in my heart I believe it was Albus. Grindelwald fled, and Albus withdrew from the world and threw himself into research. He only faced his former friend when things had gone beyond the point of no return, and the Ministry all but forced him to take the field. In the end he wasn't able to kill his former friend, though he did manage to narrowly defeat him. In the years he spent avoiding the conflict, hundreds of lives were lost."

"But he still did the right thing, in the end," Harry said.

"Perhaps," Hermione's eyes were slightly narrowed. This wasn't in any history book she'd read, but it rang true.

"Did he do the right thing in the end for your godfather, boy?" He asked.

"He helped Sirius escape from the castle last year," Harry looked honestly confused.

"He's the reason Black was in Azkaban in the first place, lad. Think about it. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and Sirius was one of the Order. He could have ensured the man had a trial. A simple questioning under veritaserum would have exonerated him, and you would have been given over to his custody. I find it very hard to believe that Albus was unaware that Pettigrew was your parent's secret keeper either."

The blood drained from Harry's face then. "But why?"

"With Black in Azkaban, there was no one to contest his guardianship of you. No one to keep him from putting you with those muggles, and keeping you ignorant of your birthright. You grew up isolated, and resented by your family until he deigned to 'rescue' you. He sent his greatest advocate to you, so that your introduction to our world was as favourable to him as possible. You were told of the greatness of Gryffindor, and of Albus himself. Use your head lad, can you think of no reason why he'd do that?" His tone softened a bit.

"To keep me vulnerable, make me trust him," Harry's voice hardened a bit as he stared into his butterbeer.

"Oh Harry," Hermione touched his arm.

"My brother believes that the ends justify the means, any means. Don't be one of his pawns. You're a good lad, you deserve better than to be sacrificed to his pursuit of the 'Greater Good'. I trust you know the passage that leads to Honeyduke's cellar?" He asked.

"I do," Harry took a deep breath, trying to contain the anger he was feeling. The sense of betrayal was choking him.

"Sneak through every night around curfew, and come here. I'll do what I can to help you survive this bloody Tournament, and my brother's machinations," he offered him his hand. "Will you accept it?"

Harry reached over and took his hand. "I do."

"You'd best be going before anyone notices your absence," he said. "Watch each other's backs, and don't trust anyone else with this information. Not even that Weasley boy that follows you around, or your Godfather. This knowledge can be deadly," Aberforth warned, blue eyes boring into Harry's.

"We'll keep it secret, Sir," Hermione promised.

Aberforth snorted. "I ain't no Sir, missy. Get on with you both, and be careful," he insisted, walking them to the door and ushering them out. He watched them head off through the snow, and he hoped that he'd gotten through to them. He was tired of watching his brother play god with other people's lives. That poor boy hadn't had a moment's peace, and he deserved all the help he could get. He wasn't as smart as his brother, nor as talented, but he did know right from wrong. What he'd done today felt right. He'd help the boy face this tournament, and then somehow outsmart his brother's convoluted plans. Perhaps for once the means could justify the ends.

~Fin~


	28. Always

**A/N:** Written for Round Six of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Disappointed vs. Proud] / Prompt: Heart to Heart / Word Count: 1330

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

It had been three weeks since their very public falling out. Three weeks of missing her at his side in the library, of walking together in the halls, and sharing fleeting looks across the Great Halls at meal times. It tore at something deep inside Severus every time he played back that look of hurt and pain in her beautiful green eyes when he'd said that word. He'd never said that word before, and he swore he never would again. It had been necessary, the only thing that would convince both of their houses that they were done. Things were getting dangerous, for both of them.

The Dark Lord was gaining power, starting to move openly. There were mentions of attacks and disappearances every week in the Prophet, and lines were being drawn amongst the members of his house. While some, like the Greengrass family, could rely on their reputations to protect them while they declared neutrality, he had no such luxury. He was the Half-blood son of a blood traitor, he was either for the Dark Lord or against him. There would be no one to protect him if he declined to join his ranks. Avery had pulled him aside at the beginning of the year and explained that all too clearly.

Lucius was a friend, but his assistance reached only as far as singing his praises and painting him as a valuable commodity. It was the best his friend could do, and he appreciated that he'd been willing to go that far. He couldn't hope that the Malfoys would protect him if he simply tried to stay out of it, Lucius had to think about his new wife now and hopefully a family soon. No, he was on his own. He's pushed Lily away hoping to protect her. If she wasn't associated with him, Potter and Black would protect her from what was coming. He knew that Potter coveted the beautiful witch, relentlessly so. If he wasn't in the picture anymore, it would be easier for her to accept the protection of her fellow Gryffindors.

A non-descript barn owl fluttered own in front of him. He frowned a little and gave it a piece of ham and took the letter. It was early and only a handful of his housemates were here eating this early on a Sunday. He unfolded the parchment.

 _If you need to ask, then you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask. Meet me there at midnight._

He felt his heart jump, realizing that she understood what he'd done. She knew they needed to appear to be at odds, but she wanted to see him. Pride flooded through his entire being as he realized that she'd seen through his plan. He thanked Merlin that his friend was just as clever as he was, and willing to at least hear him out. He slipped the piece of paper into an inner pocket of his robes. She'd taken the words from the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw. The sad ghost had offered her help to them back in their second year when they'd been searching for a place to study together where no one would hurt them. It had taken them time to find it, but it was now their secret place. He had no idea how he was going to last until midnight, but he would be there.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Severus was sitting on an abandoned sofa in the Room of Forgotten Things, waiting for Lily. When the door opened, he felt his heart jump up in his throat. She all but ran across the room and threw herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. The familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries surrounded him in a comforting cloud that was just her. "I'm so sorry Lily, I'm so sorry…"

"I know Sev," Lily whispered back. "You were trying to protect me. I know you didn't mean it," her voice trembled with emotion. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she buried her face in Severus's shoulder. "You should have told me, trusted me with your plan," she reproached him. It hurt that he'd felt the need to hide this from her. "You always try and shoulder everything alone, you don't need to do that. Not with me."

"I had to try…I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt because of me," he whispered. "I couldn't be so selfish."

Lily pulled back and punched him in the arm. "Severus Tobias Snape, you are the least selfish person I've ever met! Ok, so you can be moody, possessive, and you have a vindictive streak a mile wide…but you've never been selfish. How dare you not trust me! I spend three days thinking you hated me until I figured it out. I've never felt so horrible, it was like someone had carved my heart out of my chest. I'm disappointed you felt you couldn't talk to me about this."

Severus rubbed his arm, distantly noting that it would probably bruise. "I thought you'd be better off without me. I'm in too deep already Lils…and the water is only going to get deeper," he sat down on the couch, head falling forward into his hands. He hated the disappointed, disapproving look she gave him whenever she saw him Avery and Rosier. "I'm trapped, and I can't figure a way out."

Lily sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his back and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Two heads are always better than one Sev, even if the one is yours," she whispered. "Tell me."

"I have to choose sides Lily, and I don't have anyone to protect me if I try and side against him. My mother turned her back on her family, she's a blood traitor, and I'm just her half-blood son. If I don't join them, they will kill me as an example to the others. I can probably put that off until I graduate, but I won't be able to stave it off forever," he sighed, hating that he was laying this on her. He'd wanted her clear of his problems, free of the guilt and shame. He was so disappointed that she'd seen through his plan, even as he rejoiced with pride that she had. His beautiful, clever, kind-hearted friend.

She slipped her fingers through his, squeezing his hand. "So don't fight them, at least not in the open. Fight from the inside, pass on what information you can, when you can. Anything could help," she said. "No one knows that we're still friends, if we keep it secret…we can help each other."

Severus turned his head and looked at her, speechless for a long moment. He leaned in and stole the softest of kisses. He'd wanted to do that for so long. "You're so bloody brilliant," he whispered.

Lily blushed almost as red as her hair. "I've wanted you to do that all year," she whispered, teeth catching her bottom lip.

Severus timidly reached up and stroked her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If we do this, no one can ever know…at least not until it's all over," he said, meeting her eyes. "We'll both have to do things we don't want to, to make everyone believe the lie. We have to make them all believe it, implicitly."

"But we never lie to each other, no matter what Severus. Promise me that we'll always have truth between us," Lily's eyes were intense.

"Always, I swear it," Severus whispered his oath before leaning in to kiss her again, ever so softly. He loved his beautiful friend, so much it made his heart want to shatter into pieces. He'd never dared hope that she'd feel the same, or that he'd ever be able to tell her. They might only ever have these secret moments. He promised himself he would live every day however he had to in order to ensure that these secret moments remained theirs.

~Fin~


	29. The Loyalty of the Sett

**A/N:** Written for Round Six of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story [Prefect Bonus Entry] / Prompt: Justin Finch-Fletchley / Word Count: 1504

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

After the funeral of the Headmaster, there was an emergency meeting in the Sett. All the Hufflepuffs from years one through seven were gathered in the Common Room around their Head of House, Pomona Sprout. Her face was grave as she took in every single one of them. Her little badgers were about to face a test that would scar many of them for the rest of their lives. She had no doubt about what was coming. She currently had 12 muggle-born students in her house, and she felt a sense of responsibility for aiding them and their families. She wouldn't involve anyone else, for secrecy's sake, but she had friends, former students, and even classmates from her days that could be trusted implicitly.

"First, I want to express how proud I am of each and every one of you for your conduct during this tragedy. You have all been a credit to this House and displayed the kindness, and compassion we are known for. Tomorrow the Hogwarts Express will take all of you home, and for some of you it may be unsafe to return next year. I will be meeting with anyone I feel to be at risk today to help them make arrangements. For now I'd ask everyone to remain within the Sett, and pack their belongings. Mr. Finch-Fletchley, if you'd come with me please," Pomona said kindly and led him through to her sitting room.

"Do you think You-Know-Who will target muggle-born students, Professor?" He asked as he sat down on the couch.

"I fear that he will. Now, I have a network of people that can be trusted, and they have offered safe harbour to other badgers in need. I would send you to them tonight, and visit your family tomorrow to explain what is happening. Will you accept my help?" She asked him.

Justin nodded quietly. "I think it's the smartest choice Professor. How long do you think this will go on?"

"I don't know, hopefully not long," She said honestly. "Amos Diggory and his wife Alice will hide you until the danger has passed. They can be trusted implicitly." She reached over and touched his shoulder. "Pack your things, and I'll come and fetch you when it's time. You cannot tell anyone where you are going Mr. Finch-Fletchley, for your own sake and your friends."

Justin fought back tears. "Thank you Professor. Tell my mother that I love her," He whispered.

Pomona went over and pulled the young man into a hug. It was going to break her heart to do this, but it would put her students into safe places before anyone started looking for them. This was one small thing she could do.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Late that night, Justin walked past the ward line with Professor Sprout. His trunk was shrunken down and tucked into his pocket. He'd said goodbye to Ernie and Hannah, holding tight to his friends knowing that it could be a very long time before he saw them again. The three of them had been completely inseparable since first year. Hannah had been the first face he'd seen in second year after he'd been petrified, and Ernie had taught him all the finer points of wizarding etiquette over the years. They'd faced everything together, but this was something he'd have to do without them.

He took Professor Sprout's arm and felt the bone crushing squeeze of apparition. They popped out in front of a picturesque little thatched cottage. There was a fieldstone fence around the property and a little white gate. Waiting there were the Diggorys. Justin recognized them from the Triwizard Tournament. He took a deep breath and walked forward, feeling Professor Sprout's hand on his shoulder.

"Ah, you must be Justin. It's nice to meet you, lad," Amos offered his hand to the young man.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Diggory. Thank you for all of this." Justin said, trying to keep his emotions in check. He shook the older wizard's hand firmly, like his father had taught him.

"No need at all, and please call me Amos. This is my wife, Alice," He introduced the witch beside him. "We'll take him from here Professor, I know you've a busy night ahead," he nodded to Pomona.

"I do indeed Amos. With luck I'll be seeing you soon, stay safe and study hard," Pomona said warmly before turning away and disapparating with a crack.

"Alright, let's get you inside. How about a nice cup of hot chocolate, and then we'll get you settled." Alice said and wrapped an arm around Justin, leading him into the house. She settled him down at the table and went about making some hot chocolate. When Pomona had contacted them early this morning, there had been no question about them helping. If they could protect even one child from that monster and his followers, they would. On a more selfish level, it would be nice to have a child in the house again.

"So, Professor Sprout tells me you're quite the young historian." Amos said while they settled down around the table.

Justin smiled very slightly, grateful that Mr. Diggory was trying to keep things as normal as possible. "I don't enjoy History class, but I love to read on my own. There's just so much to learn, and absorb. I feel like I could spend my whole life studying, and never even scratch the surface." He blushed a little, knowing how it sounded.

"Well, Binns is enough to make anyone dread that class…I've said for years that they needed to exorcise him." Amos chuckled. "Well, it's not the Hogwarts Library, but you're more than welcome to make use of my study. There should be one or two things in there to catch your interest. I understand that this situation isn't ideal, and you must be worried for your family and friends, but Alice and I want you to feel at home here. If there's anything at all you need, even if it's just someone to talk to, please just let either of us know." Sincerity shone through his kind brown eyes.

Alice sat down steaming mugs of hot chocolate in front of Justin and her husband, before retrieving her own and sitting down. "How old are you Justin?" She asked as she sat down.

"I'll be seventeen in a few weeks ma'am." He said politely.

"I used to work in the office for the Regulation of Underaged Wizardry. Until your birthday, it's probably best that you not use your own wand. I have a spare that you can use until then. Once the trace breaks, you'll be fine. We simply can't afford any record of you being here," Alice explained gently. "What day is your birthday on? We might not be able to have a proper party, but I'd like to at least make a nice dinner and some cake."

"July 5th, and I'd like that ma'am," he said and sipped his drink. It was so strange sitting here, having a conversation with people he barely knew, and realizing that he might be living here for a while. "What will happen if someone comes by unexpectedly?" He asked. He hated that he had to worry about hiding, but that was his reality now.

"Our wards are such that no one can apparate or floo in, unless we open the connection. I'd ask that if you want to be outside you use the back garden as much as possible. In a worst case scenario, we'll oblivate anyone we have to." Amos said seriously. "We lost Cedric to You-Know-Who…and we won't let anything happen to you Justin, you have my word on that."

Justin felt tears in his eyes as he listened to what this man was saying. "I'm really scared," he admitted softly. He'd spent the last two days trying to convince himself that he was brave, strong enough to deal with everything that had happened. There had been Death Eaters inside Hogwarts, the Headmaster was dead, and now everything was so uncertain. These people didn't know him at all, and they'd opened their home to him, put themselves in danger to protect him. It was all too much for the sixteen year old boy to process.

Alice moved and pulled the boy into a tight hug. "We all are. Only a fool wouldn't be afraid after what's happened Justin. Just remember that no matter what happens we'll face it together," she stroked a hand through his soft curls. She heard him start to cry softly, and her heart just broke for the boy. She remembered how it had been the last time, so much fear and heartbreak. She'd shield him from as much of it as she could. Her eyes met her husband's across the table and she saw a matching resolve there. Neither of them were warriors, but only a fool would follow an angry badger into its den. If anyone came for this boy, she'd tear them to pieces or die trying.

~Fin~


	30. Boys will be Boys

**A/N:** Written for Round Seven of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Yellow Polka Dot Bikini / Word Count: 780

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Theo was heading back to the dungeons when he saw something on the ground in the entrance hall. He paused and picked it up. It was a photograph, though clearly muggle in nature. The subject however made his jaw drop all the way down to his knees. Lying on a sandy beach and smiling at the camera, was Hermione bloody Granger herself. She was wearing something that barely covered her, some kind of muggle bathing suit he guessed. It was yellow with white polka dots all over it. There were little bows at her hips that held the bottom closed.

He swallowed nervously. Who'd ever have guessed that Hogwarts' resident bookworm looked like that under those robes? He turned the picture over, wondering who the hell had been stupid enough to leave it lying around.

 _Hope you & Harry are having a nice time at the Burrow! See you in August! ~Hermione_

He chuckled and tucked it away. Weasley was a real idiot to leave this where someone could find it. He headed to his Common Room and whistled to get Blaise' attention from the girl he was currently trying to charm.

"What the hell, Nott?" Blaise groused as he came over.

"Trust me…you'll want to see this," Theo smirked, handing the picture over. "I have no idea what she's wearing but bloody hell…"

"It's a bikini, they're popular at muggle beaches," Blaise said absently, his dark eyes running along the long, lean lines of Granger's body. "She's hot."

"Guess we know what Krum saw in her last year," Theo winked at his closest friend.

"I hope he didn't get to see this much of her, or the rest of us will be out of luck," He sat down, trying to adjust his mind a little to the thought of Granger being an actual girl.

"What are you two looking at?" Draco said, and snatched the picture away from Blaise and then his jaw dropped down. "This can't be real….right?"

"I think that's what she really looks like…" Theo said.

"Mudblood or not…I'd do her," Warrington remarked as he walked by.

Draco's cheeks blushed darkly. "Warrington!"

"What? A pretty girl is a pretty girl Malfoy, unless that's not what turns your crank. Maybe you're just disappointed it's not Potter in that get-up!" He shot back, his friends laughing loudly at that.

The picture made its rounds through the Slytherin Common Room, the boys all enjoying their little eyeful until their Head of House strode into the Common Room. Severus' eyes narrowing as he took in a group of snickering sixth year boys. He strode over and took in the mixture of panic, embarrassment, and guilt written all over their faces.

"Gentlemen, what exactly is so terribly interesting?" He said in his trademark silky voice.

"Well…it's, I mean to say, Sir, that…" The boy stuttered.

"Mr. Higgs, in English if you please."

"It's a picture Sir," Higgs managed to say and handed it over, putting it into his Head of House's outstretched hand.

Severus had to exercise extreme control to only arch an eyebrow. "I assume that the majority of the common room has seen this photograph?" At everyone's nod he sighed. "I am extremely disappointed in all of you. 25 points from Slytherin for the objectification of a female student, and ungentlemanly behaviour. I will be confiscating this. I expect better from all of you." He put every ounce of disapproval he could muster into his voice.

"Yes Sir." There was a chorus of acknowledgement from the room. The male half of the room seemed to collectively hold its breath until he was gone. Then came the inevitable question. "Who has one of the duplicates?"

The next morning at breakfast, Daphne Greengrass walked over to intercept Granger when she entered the Great Hall. "So, how was France this summer?" She asked pleasantly.

Hermione blinked at her, looking a bit bewildered. "It was lovely. How did you know I was in France?"

Daphne's smile turned predatory. "Love the bikini Granger. The polka dots are just darling…" Daphne drawled and sauntered back to her table.

A sense of horror crashed down on Hermione as she turned to look over at the Slytherin table. Most of the fifth, sixth, and even a few of the seventh year male students were giving her very appreciative looks. There were even a few wolf whistles from the Quidditch team. Her cheeks burned with mortification. She turned back towards the Gryffindor table, blue sparks shooting off her hair. "RONALD WEASLEY I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" She screamed. The red-headed wizard in question didn't hesitate, he ran for it with one very furious witch on his heels.

~Fin~


	31. Just A Little Change

**A/N:** Written for Round 7 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Love Found or Love Lost] / Prompt: Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini [Pairing] / Word Count: 2074

 **o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

Blaise was slipping through one of the back passages of the castle when he heard a curious sound. There was the light twittering of small birds, but also the sound of someone crying. He followed the sounds, moving very quietly so as not to disturb whoever it was that was clearly upset. As the sound grew closer, he could tell that it was definitely a girl, and he mentally kicked himself for what he was about to do. He hated hearing girls cry, his one weakness.

He came around the corner and saw Hermione Granger sitting on a stairwell, conjured songbirds flitting around her. Her head was on her knees, and sobs shook her slender shoulders. He'd never really had anything to do with the bossy little swot, keeping a casual distance from Malfoy's feud with the Gryffindor trio. He cleared his throat.

"You ok Granger?" He asked.

Hermione's head flew up, and she hurriedly scrubbed at the tears on her face. "I'm fine…."

"Well you certainly don't look it," he came and sat down beside her. "There's no one around, you can tell me," he offered, putting his books down and giving her his full attention. He supposed she was not unattractive, if you could ignore her lack of pedigree. He blamed his mother for his weakness for weeping witches.

"You'll think I'm stupid," she sniffled and then hesitantly took the handkerchief that Zabini offered her. She dried her eyes with it.

"Even the people that hate you Granger, couldn't ever think you were stupid," Blaise smiled. "Let me guess then, Potter or Weasley did something really stupid."

"I…I cheated to get Ron on the Quidditch team, and then he goes and kisses Lavender Brown in the middle of the Common Room, in front of everyone," she whispered.

"Don't cry over him Granger, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that idiot," Blaise said gently. Why on earth would any girl waste three seconds on someone like Ron Weasley?

"I try telling myself that, but…," she started.

"No buts Granger. He's not worth the dirt off your shoes, plain and simple," he reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Look, why don't you come with me to Slughorn's Christmas dinner? I'll show you how a wizard should treat a witch," he started mentally questioning his own sanity, even as it slipped out.

"But…I'm muggleborn. Doesn't that violate some Slytherin code of conduct or something?" She gave him a dubious look.

Blaise laughed. "Probably, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. As for blood…it's not like I'm asking you to marry me Granger. As a bonus it'll drive Weasley insane," he winked playfully at her.

"All right, I'll go to the party with you," Hermione found herself accepting his offer, a little smile curving over her lips. She was about to say more when suddenly Blaise was pulling her closer, and catching her lips in a kiss. She was too caught off guard to pull away.

"Oopsie…looks like this spot's taken."

Lavender's voice cut through Hermione's enjoyment of the unexpected kiss. She looked over at Ron's shocked face and felt her cheeks burn.

"Hermione what are you doing…" He started to say.

Hermione stood and fixed him with the coldest glare she could, not even needing to go for her wand. "Oppugno!" She said and her transfigured birds turned themselves into little feathery projectiles, chasing Ron and Lavender away. She felt tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over again.

'I think I'm in love,' Blaise thought with a smile on his lips. He stood, wiping her tears away and kissing her softly. This little witch had a dark streak to her, and he was going to enjoy getting to know it. So many witches had their heads filled with empty air and not much else. This witch was brilliant, and talented. Not to mention that dating her would drive members of both their houses utterly spare.

Hermione broke the kiss and looked up into his dark eyes. "I don't normally kiss boys in dark corridors," she said, biting her bottom lip.

"Then I'm glad you made an exception," he moved back and took her hand, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall the night of the party, and escort you up."

"All right, I'll see you then," Hermione watched as he headed off, looking completely carefree. She leaned against the wall and touched her lips. She'd kissed a few boys before, but she'd never felt her heart beat this fast, not even with Viktor.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Hermione was waiting in the Entrance Hall, trying not to feel anxious. It had taken her two hours to get ready, with Ginny trying to get her to calm down. She'd taken a bit of heat from Ron, but a few well-placed hexes had gotten him to drop it, and no one else seemed to want to get in the middle of things. She smoothed her hands down her skirt. The pink dress had caught her eye while shopping on the last Hogsmead weekend, it had been in the window at Gladrags. Sure it had cost almost her whole allowance for the year, but it had been worth it. The pink silk was embroidered with a vine and flower pattern that had reminded her of her wand. The thread was just a shade darker than the dress so it was there, but not gaudily so.

Blaise appeared from the entrance to the dungeons, and smiled as their eyes met. "You look beautiful."

Hermione blushed a little, and found it darkening as he took her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. "Thank you, Zabini."

"Please, call me Blaise," he said and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Shall we?"

Hermione nodded. "I hope no one's been giving you too much grief about this, Blaise."

"Nothing a few well-placed hexes can't handle," he smirked. Draco had stated his opinions on it, and he'd promptly set him straight. Draco could have any opinion he liked, but if he voiced it within Blaise's hearing he'd feel compelled to respond.

Hermione laughed a bit. "Funny, that's how I've been handling Ronald."

"If he gets out of line, I expect you to tell me about it," Blaise said seriously. If it were issues with other witches he'd have let her handle it, but another wizard had no right to comment on a young lady's choices unless he was related.

She gave him a strange look. "Is that some pure-blood thing that I just don't understand?"

"It is," Blaise said. "He's not your brother…he has no right to comment on who you choose to spend time with. If he has a problem, he should take it up with me."

She just shook her head a little. "He's my friend…I would have been shocked if he didn't say something."

Blaise chose to leave it alone, but he would have a chat with Weasley, and soon. "Have you given much thought to what you want to do after you've finished school?" He asked, changing the topic.

"I'd considered looking into a career in the Ministry, but to be honest I don't know half of what's out there. Hogwarts doesn't seem to give much in the way of career counselling, besides that five minute talk we got last year," she said.

"Professor Snape has yearly meetings starting in first year to give us information on jobs, and how to tailor our academics to benefit us. Given all the Owls you got, and the Newts you're taking, you have a lot of options," Blaise looked surprised. "Maybe you should ask him for some advice?"

She looked honestly surprised. "I suppose I should," she frowned a bit as they entered the party.

"Ah Miss Granger, and Mr. Zabini!" Professor Slughorn came over, positively beaming at them. "What a delight to see you both here, and together. Quite good of you to escort her Mr. Zabini."

Blaise inclined his head deferentially. "It's my pleasure, Professor. Miss Granger is a very special witch, after all," he said simply.

"Well do enjoy yourselves, and make sure to mingle," he shooed them over towards the refreshments.

"Special?" Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

"Champagne?" He asked simply, and handed her a flute of it. He caught the eye of his Head of House and nodded, aware that he'd likely be getting pulled in for a conversation about his appearance here tonight with the muggle-born witch.

Hermione took the drink, and allowed Blaise to steer them around the room. There were other students, members of the Ministry, and even a few professional Quidditch players. It was strange being here with Blaise. He was a calm presence at her side, not trying to dominate the conversations, but always ready with something insightful to say. He was also skillfully keeping Cormac away from her, without ever appearing rude about it. It was reassuring to not need to worry about it.

The only real interruption in the evening was when Draco was caught gate-crashing, or so he'd claimed. She mentally sighed watching Harry not-so-subtly slip out to follow them. A light touch to her forearm drew her notice back to her date and she coloured, realizing she hadn't heard a single thing he'd said. "I'm so sorry, my mind was a million miles away," she apologized.

"It's fine Hermione, I was wondering if I might walk you back to Gryffindor Tower?" He offered.

"I'd like that," she said and they said their goodnights to everyone. They thanked the Professor for a lovely party. The old Professor smiled indulgently at them as they left.

"Are you going home for the Holidays?" Blaise asked as they walked.

"I am, I live just outside London," she said.

"My mother and I will be staying in London over Yule. If you'd allow me the privilege, I would like to write to you over the holidays," he asked somewhat hesitantly.

"You don't need my permission to write to me," Hermione looking quite confused.

"Actually I do," he said. Blaise considered that perhaps he should send her a book on courtship rules and traditions. If he was going to pursue her, he was going to do it properly.

"Another obscure pureblood etiquette rule?" She asked.

"Yes. My mother made sure I knew that a witch should always be treated with the utmost respect," he paused and looked down at her, staring deep into her eyes. "You are deserving of no less than my very best manners."

"Then you have my permission to write to me," Hermione said, seeing that it was important. "I don't have my own owl, so if you'd like me to reply your owl would need to wait."

He nodded. "Hermes will be glad of something to do, he doesn't get much to do during the year," Blaise smiled and continued the path up to the Gryffindor Common Room. When they reached the portrait, he turned to her and leaned down to brush a kiss against her lips. "I hope you enjoyed tonight as much as I did," he whispered against her lips.

"I had a really nice time," Hermione rested her hand against his chest. "I'd like to see you again."

"I'll write you over the break, and maybe we can find time to see each other," Blaise hoped. It would take some work to bring his mother around to the idea, but he knew with the right arguments he would prevail.

Hermione gave him a brilliant smile. "I'll look forward to your letter. Goodnight Blaise, and thank you for a wonderful time."

"Good night, Hermione," Blaise said giving her a little half bow and a cocky grin.

Hermione whispered the password to the portrait as he sauntered off. She went up to her dorm room, and fell back on her bed with a contented sigh. "Mmmmmmm."

"That good huh?" Parvati laughed and came over. "Have a nice date?"

"It was wonderful, he's nothing like I thought," Hermione sat up and scooted back to lean against the headboard. "He asked to write me over Christmas."

Parvati's eyes widened. "That's big Hermione…like really big."

"I think I really like him," she admitted.

"When you get back after Christmas I want to hear all about it." Parvati said decisively. "Promise?"

"Promise," Hermione smiled. She hoped that she'd have a lot to tell her.

~Fin~


	32. Painful Truths

**A/N:** Written for Round 7 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Breaking Someone's Trust [Action] / Word Count: 985

 **o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

Harry was getting married tomorrow. It was supposed to be a happy day. It was supposed to be the day her best friend married the girl he'd been in love with for years. The thought of it just made her stomach turn. He didn't know who he was marrying. She'd promised Ginny to never breathe a word about her little indiscretion back at Hogwarts, and she had kept her promise until now. She'd seen Ginny sneaking out the night before, and in her gut she just knew where she'd gone, and who she'd been with.

Hermione poured herself another shot of fire whiskey and then headed up the staircase. She skillfully avoided the creaky third step, not wanting to alert anyone that she was following Harry upstairs. She knocked on his bedroom door, still mentally debating about whether this was the right thing to do…or not.

"Come in!" Harry called.

Hermione stepped into the room, closing and warding the door behind her with a subtle flick of her wand. "Hey Harry, ummm….do you have a few minutes?" She asked.

Harry turned and gave her a quizzical look. "Of course, I always have time for you," he went over and took her hand, leading her over to the bed to sit down. "What's up? You've been on edge all night."

"I…there's something I need to tell you, and I should have said something a long time ago, but I promised Ginny and she swore that it wouldn't ever happen again, but I think it has and you're marrying her, so you should know and I really need to…" Hermione's marathon sentence was cut off by Harry putting a hand over her mouth.

"Easy 'Mione, take a breath and start from the beginning," he'd noticed her starting to turn a little blue from lack of oxygen. It happened sometimes when she got really upset.

"When I went back to Hogwarts for my last year…I realized Ginny was seeing someone secretly," she said softly, hating that her words caused a sudden expression of hurt over her best friend's face. "I'd noticed she was sneaking out at night, and so I followed her. I caught her going into the Room of Requirement with Thomas Harper. I confronted her about it afterwards, and she claimed that it had just been a one-time thing, and a big mistake. She made me promise not to say anything, because she loved you and didn't want to lose you," Hermione said softly.

Harry stood and walked across the room, feeling his stomach drop sickeningly. "T.H.," he said, as if coming to some revelation. "Why did you wait until now to say something?" He finally broke the silence. He didn't turn around, just staring out the window down at the street below.

"Last night I was having trouble sleeping, so I went down to the kitchen. While I was in there, I saw a shadow from the hall. I snuck a peek, and saw Ginny slipping out through the floo," she said. "It was two in the morning, and she didn't come back until nearly six. I stayed up to make sure," Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "I just had this awful feeling in my gut, and I had to tell you Harry," she said feeling tears welling up in her eyes. "I know I should have told you right after I caught her back at school, but I knew how much you loved her, and I didn't want to take that away from you."

Harry let out a long sigh, and turned back. "I'm not angry with you 'Mione," he walked over and took her hand in his, squeezing it. "I've known for a while that something wasn't quite right. I guess I was just chalking it up to cold feet. I mean we're both so young, and marriage is a big thing…it's normal right? She's been getting owls, often enough that I started to recognize one specific bird. The wax seal has a T and an H on it. She never lets me see them. Now I know why."

"I'm so sorry Harry," Hermione said, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said and pulled her into a tight hug. "You're my best friend, and I know you always have my back. I needed to know," Harry whispered into her hair.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, burying her face against his shoulder.

"I have to call the wedding off, and then maybe get out of town for a few days," he started mentally planning. The press was going to have a field day with this, and he really didn't want to be there for the backlash. An idea came through the pain of betrayal, and hit him right between the eyes. "Ginny and I were going to honeymoon on this little island in the Caribbean that Sirius' family owned. I have a portkey scheduled for the morning after next. Would you like to come with me?"

Hermione pulled back and nodded. "I'd love to." Since the war had ended, and her subsequent messy break-up with Ron, she and Harry hadn't gotten much time alone together. Ginny hadn't liked it, and Ron always seemed to turn up whenever they had a night planned. "You know how it'll look in the papers though, right?"

"It wouldn't be the first time they tried to paint us as a couple, though the story of Ginny's betrayal will be the bigger scoop," Harry said wryly. He'd seen his friend's name dragged through the mud enough times that just this once he wasn't above using his influence to make sure that Hermione didn't come out as the villain. He'd give Skeeter the inside track, in exchange for her painting him and Hermione in a flattering light. The woman was utterly vile, but she certainly had her uses.

~Fin~


	33. Penance

**A/N:** Written for Round 7 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story [Prefect Bonus Entry] / Prompt: Glamour Charm / Word Count: 911

 **o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

"Fifty points from Ravenclaw for utterly inappropriate behavior, Miss Clements! GET OUT YOU IDIOT GIRL!" He yelled at the now sobbing seventh year student. She grabbed her books and fled his office, feet ringing off the stone as she ran. He slammed the door to his office behind her, and slumped into his chair, feeling a migraine of epic proportions coming on. This was the third time this year that he'd been propositioned by one of the Newt students.

Earlier this term, he'd entered his office to find one of his Slytherin prefects half-naked in his office chair. He'd all but run from the room to fetch Minerva, telling her what had happened and asking for her assistance in dealing with it. The older woman had been mortified for him, and had given the young lady a tongue lashing that had even made Severus squirm. Afterwards, she'd invited Severus up to her quarters for a much needed glass of scotch. It had been nice to know that she hadn't thought he'd encouraged the student in any way. At least one person on this planet didn't look at him like he was a depraved monster. She'd sympathized with him, and offered her help when it came to the female members of his house. He was one of the youngest professors in the last two centuries at the school, and it was bound to cause issues from time to time.

He just didn't understand it. He was no more attractive than he'd been three years ago, when he'd been a student here. He was acerbic and occasionally downright cruel in the classroom, using his razor sharp tongue to try and engender distance and respect from his classes. He took points at the drop of a hat, and yet this kept happening. He got love notes scrawled at the bottom of essays. He'd even caught someone trying to slip him a bloody love potion. He'd gone nearly apoplectic at that, demanding that Albus expel the girl in question. The old man had just smiled at him and said that he was overreacting, and things would settle down in a year or two. After all, he'd detected the potion before he'd consumed it, so no harm had been done.

He didn't know if he could handle another two years of this. He wasn't a nice man. He certainly wasn't the kind of wizard that witches swooned over, for Merlin's sake. He went through to his private quarters, and grabbed a book that had been on his mind for a while now. He'd never been a terribly vain man, but the thought of rendering himself even more repulsive was hard for him. It had taken years to grow into his large nose and sharp features. Was being left alone worth making himself look like the greasy bat of the dungeons? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The glamour charm he had in mind was a gradual one. It would accelerate over the years until it altered other's perceptions of him to the point he desired. It was reversible, but the counter was rather complicated, and only the person that applied the glamor could remove it.

He went to his private work room and grabbed three vials he cast a perpetual unbreakable charm on them and sat down at his work bench. He grabbed his silver pen knife and sliced cleanly into his hand, filling all three crystal vials with his blood. He sealed them and then healed the cut in his hand. The blood would be used if he ever decided to remove the glamour. Maybe in a few years, once he was old enough to not be terribly attractive to his female students…maybe then.

He took a shaky breath and went to the bathroom and began to mutter the incantation under his breath, stroking his wand along his face, imagining what he wanted others to see. In his mind's eye he imagine his teeth growing crooked and yellow, hair stringy and lank, he imagined the colour in his skin leeching away like some creature that existed solely in the darkness, and his worst possible imagining of his nose. The entire picture in his mind was repellant, even to him. He deserved no less than to exist as some caricature of himself. How could he possibly expect to be happy when he'd been the cause of so much pain? Lily and her husband were dead because of his actions, and her son would never know the wonderful woman that had given birth to him. He should suffer for that. Perhaps this was for the best. Every time he saw someone recoil at the sight of him, it would remind him that he was a monster.

He finished and felt the glamour charm settle over his face, it was a strange sensation like spider webs against his skin. The book had said that it would fade in a day or two. It might take a couple of years for the glamour to progress to where he wanted it, but it would be worth it. He pushed away from the mirror, and returned the book to his shelf. He brushed his fingers down the spine of an old photo album, but refused to allow himself the comfort of those pictures. He didn't deserve it. Albus was right, he needed to atone for the things he had done. Maybe this could be part of his penance.

~Fin~


	34. Season of Change

**A/N:** Written for Round 8 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Autumn/Fall [Season] / Word Count: 681

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Theo loved the autumn, a riot of colour and vibrancy in what was normally such a dull world. One last gasp of life before everything fell into its long winter slumber. He was in his favourite spot, under a gnarled old oak near the Forbidden Forest. Only a handful of people knew about this place, and even then it was only so that he could be found in the case of an emergency.

He was studying for his Newts, like so many others. He'd been part of the handful of students that had chosen to return for an optional 8th year, after the horrors of the war. The final battle had taken place only a bare five months ago now, but there was little remaining to hint that so many had died here. There was talk of a great monument to be built on the grounds to commemorate the sacrifices of those that had defended the school and its students, but for the moment all efforts had been to focus on rebuilding the main structures.

A red leaf fluttered down and landed on the open page of his Charms book, bringing a small smile to his normally serious face. He picked it up, twirling the stem between his thumb and forefinger. There was something about the way the grounds were blanketed in red and gold, and it seemed to lull everyone into forgetting for a short time. There were so many things he wanted to forget, friends that he would never see again, and others so changed by the horrors they had seen that they would never be the same.

He heard footsteps on the path, and he nodded politely to Granger. She was the only one of the so-called Golden Trio to return. A flick of his wand made the fallen leaves swirl around her, a playful dance of colour. He stopped only when he saw a small smile creep across her lips. She didn't smile much these days, and he'd made it his personal mission to try and inspire one when he could. "Join me?"

"I needed to get out of the castle, Draco suggested I head out this way," Hermione said and sat down, settling against the trunk of the oak, beside the Slytherin boy.

"It's my favourite spot on the grounds, has been since second year when I stumbled across it," he confided in her. "I love it especially at this time of year."

"I can see why," Hermione let her eyes sweep over the view, the riot of colour all around them. "It's beautiful."

"So are you," Theo said softly, giving voice to something he'd concealed for a very long time.

She blinked in surprise at him. "Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true," he replied, wordlessly transfiguring the leaf in his hand into a beautiful red rose. "I've just never had enough courage to tell you."

Hermione took the rose and brought it to her nose, breathing in the intoxicating fragrance. It was an impressive display of magic, to not just transfigure it, but to imbue it with all the qualities of a real rose. "I never knew that you even noticed I existed," she said.

"Come with me to Hogsmead this weekend?" Theo asked. "I'd like to get to know you better, if you'll let me."

Hermione hesitated a moment, looking into his earnest hazel eyes. There was a brief twinge when she considered Ron, but she hadn't heard from him in weeks and Harry had been hinting that Ron might be seeing someone else. What could it hurt? "I'd like that, and you can call me Hermione," she gave him permission.

Theo reached over and took her hand, lifting it up and brushing his lips over it gently. "Then I insist you call me Theo," he said in return. Autumn was the season of change, and he could think of no better time to begin something that could change the course of his future. He reminded himself to thank Draco for steering her out here later. He really was a good friend.

~Fin~


	35. Twins As In Two?

**A/N:** Written for Round 8 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Pregnant with Twins / Word Count: 1443

**Set approximately three years after the end of Deathly Hallows. Minor Canon Divergence**

o.o.O.o.o

"Draco, we're going to be late to our appointment. I assure you that same piece of legislation will be waiting for you when you return," Astoria called from the door to her husband's study. It was their first pre-natal appointment with the healer, and she could admit to nerves. It was hardly a secret in the Wizarding world that the Malfoys did not tend to have much luck when it came to pregnancies. Draco was the latest in a very long line of only children. Narcissa had confided in her about the many miscarriages she'd had early on in their marriage, including the two still births before Draco had been born. There were some whispers that it was even a curse.

Draco set his papers aside and stood, crossing the study and brushing a kiss against Astoria's cheek. "Forgive me, Tori. I lost track of the time." He wrapped an arm around her waist and headed towards the floo with his wife.

They arrived at St. Mungo's and were directed towards the maternity ward, to meet Healer Montrose. Melanie Montrose had been the Malfoy family healer for nearly sixty years now, and her daughter was currently apprenticing under her. Narcissa had been adamant that no one else was qualified to tend to her new daughter in law. Draco nodded politely to them as they entered the comfortably furnished exam room. It was more like a sitting room than a place for medical procedures, but it certainly did help put him at ease.

"Please have a seat Mrs. Malfoy," the older witch said with a warm smile. She had cornflower blue eyes, and a face creased with a multitude of smile lines. "Now, just relax and we'll run a basic scan to see how things are going."

"All right." Astoria took a seat on the padded exam chair and slipped her hand into Draco's. She prayed to Morganna and Circe that her baby was healthy.

The Healer moved her wand over Astoria's slightly rounded stomach, and smiled as a swirl of colours appeared in the air. "Well, you're at thirteen weeks and so far everything looks wonderful." As she read the results of the test, she knew without question that there would be a fair bit of celebrating back at the Manor this evening.

"Can you tell the sex yet?" Draco asked, letting out a little sigh of relief.

"I can indeed," Healer Montrose said, her smile so bright it could have lit the whole room. "You may want to sit down first though, Lord Malfoy." She said, a flick of her wand bringing a spare chair over to nudge at the back of his knees.

Draco frowned but sat down. "Is it a girl?" His father would be disappointed of course, but secretly Draco had been hoping for a daughter to spoil and dote on.

"There is a girl, and a boy. Your wife is carrying twins Lord Malfoy." She broke the news gently to the young couple.

Draco blinked and felt a little light headed. "Twins?"

"Twins…as in two?" Astoria blinked, feeling somewhat in shock. Oh sweet Circe, she was going to be huge.

"Yes, twins." The healer reached over and patted her hand. "I know it's daunting, but we'll be there to help manage things every step of the way. We'll schedule some additional exams to make sure both babies are growing well, and we'll need to make sure you're eating properly to support the babies. Now I don't want you apparating after your fifth month, and to only use the floo when necessary after your seventh month. Having twins does increase the chances of premature birth, so we'll make sure that you aren't over-exerting yourself. I do insist that you remain active though, daily walks in the gardens should be very beneficial." The woman continued with her instructions, including a regimen of nutritional supports that she should be started on without delay.

By the time they left St. Mungo's, Astoria was feeling quite overwhelmed. She was in a bit of a daze as they flooed home. Draco took her directly to her sitting room, and settled down on the settee with her. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. "Are you as scared as I am?"

Draco held her tightly and nodded. "I am, but we can do this together," he whispered into her hair. He pressed a kiss against her temple and swore that he'd be there for her through all of this. "You believed in me when everyone else had turned their backs on my whole family. I couldn't have done that without you, and we'll face this together too. Do you want to tell your mother first, or do we invite her over and tell all of our parents together?" He moved back a bit to look into her eyes. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her.

Astoria took a steadying breath, gathering her composure. "Invite her over, and I'll speak to the House Elves and arrange a celebratory meal."

"Will you be all right while I fire-call your mother?" he asked, feeling the urge to remain and dote on her endlessly.

"I'll be just fine, go!" Astoria shooed him off. She ordered a lavish dinner for that evening. She'd invite Daphne and Harry over the next day for tea and share the good news with them next. They'd need to start work on the nursery, and make sure that it was set up for two. Her mind began spinning with everything that needed to be done, until she had to force herself to stop. She would take things a day at a time. She settled a hand over her stomach and her expression softened. She was going to be a mother. Until today it hadn't felt completely real to her, but now the weight of that responsibility was settling over her. This was what her family needed after the last few years. A new chapter for their lives.

o.o.O.o.o

Astoria looked around the table, her eyes meeting Draco's for a long moment before nodding slightly. Her parents were sitting to her right, while Lucius and Narcissa were seated on her left. Her husband stood, looking as nervous as she felt. They'd made it all the way through dinner, and everyone was nearly finished with their desserts. It was time to break the news.

"Astoria and I wanted to thank everyone for making time to be here tonight. We have some wonderful news, and we wanted to share it with all of you," Draco said. "Today Astoria and I had an appointment at St. Mungo's, and were informed that in about six months we will be welcoming not just one, but two new Malfoys to the world."

There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Lady Greengrass was getting up out of her seat and going over to her youngest daughter. She pulled her into a warm hug. Narcissa took her turn, whispering her congratulations, while the men moved down to shake Draco's hand and clap him on the back. Lucius came down and pressed a kiss to Astoria's cheek, giving her a warm smile.

"Congratulations, I am very happy for you both," he said sincerely before making room for Edmund Greengrass.

"This is such wonderful news, sweetheart," her father said and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You realize that your mother will be moving in until the twins are off to Hogwarts though, right?" Her father's laughter wrapped around her.

"Let's hope Daphne and Harry end up expecting soon. It'll divide her attention." She winked at her father in a conspiratorial fashion.

"Don't say that around your sister." He winked back and kissed her temple again. "I love you sweetheart, if there is anything you need…"

"I know Daddy. I love you too." She met her father's eyes and tried to let him know just how much he'd always mean to her. She wanted her twins to grow up with the kind of relationship she'd had with her parents. She would move heaven and earth to make that happen. People might think the Malfoys were cold and distant, but Astoria had gotten to see the truth over the last few years. In private they were affectionate, and caring people. She knew with utter certainty that there was nothing that Lucius and Narcissa would not do for their son, and she was just as sure that Draco would be the same with their children. As the family celebrated, Astoria promised her children that they would be loved, as fiercely as she was capable of.

~Fin~


	36. Behind Closed Doors

**A/N:** Written for Round 8 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Slytherin Character] / Prompt: Interhouse Relationship / Word Count: 1678

 **A/N 2:** This story takes place during the Easter break in Lucius' sixth year, he would be approximately 17 years old in this story.

o.o.O.o.o

Lucius straightened his robes as he exited the floo. He'd warned his father that there was something they needed to talk about, something very important. Lucius rarely came home for Eostra, preferring to remain at Hogwarts and focus on revising for his exams. However, this was not something to be discussed by owl mail. Inside he was shaking like a leaf, but he was a Malfoy…and Malfoys did not cower. Not even when they needed to tell their fathers that they'd gotten a witch pregnant outside of wedlock.

He ignored the house elf as it popped his trunk up to his bedroom. Lucius crossed the expanse of the main hall, heading towards his father's study. He'd grown up with a healthy respect for his father, bordering on fear at times. Lord Abraxas Etienne Malfoy was a powerful man, with many dangerous friends. He'd impressed on his son the importance of the family, and his responsibilities to it from a very young age. Lucius' mother had died when he was about six, and there was precious little he remembered about her. His father had been his whole world, and now he was going cruelly disappoint him. That grim thought in his head, he knocked sharply at the door and waited to be acknowledged.

"Come in, Lucius," his father's cultured voice called through the heavy oak door.

Lucius took a steadying breath and opened the door. He squared his shoulders and crossed the room to stand in front of his father's desk. "Father," he said respectfully.

Abraxas Malfoy set the papers he was working on aside, and leaned back in his chair as he took a moment to take in his son's appearance. He could see the tightness in his jaw, the slight shadows under his eyes, and the slight tremor in his form. "Sit down, and tell me what was so urgent that you had to come home to discuss it with me."

Lucius sat down, holding himself carefully. "I need to ask your permission to honour an obligation," he began, swallowing nervously. "I know you're aware of my 'attachment' to Miss Scabior. I'm sure that some of my classmates will have passed word to you about it, and I have no wish to deny it. I care very much for her, I love her." Lucius' silvery eyes watched his father warily, preparing to dodge the explosion when it came. "We were not as careful as we should have been, and Melisandre is with child. She's a month gone, and it is a son…my son," Lucius added and lifted his chin, bracing himself.

The cutting hex slashed at Lucius' face, opening a bloody line along his cheek bone. "You utter FOOL!" Abraxas thundered. He came to his feet and rounded his desk, an expression of utter fury on his handsome face. "If you think I'll allow you to marry that piece of gutter trash, you've taken complete leave of your senses!" He struck his son across the face.

Lucius stood, spitting blood onto the expensive oriental carpet. He met his father's eyes coolly. "Melisandre is not trash, and I will not allow you to speak of her in that manner," he said, tramping down his fear under an iron will. "She is a Ravenclaw Prefect, and the top of her year in all her classes. She is beautiful, intelligent, and talented. I will marry her, with or without your consent," he said recklessly. He was his father's only heir, he couldn't risk disowning him.

"Not intelligent enough to keep her legs closed, apparently," Abraxas hissed and lashed out with his wand. A snarled 'Crucio' sent Lucius crashing to the ground.

Lucius was adrift in a sea of bone-crushing, sinew-tearing pain. His father had cursed him before, but never with this. A particularly sharp stab of pain tore a scream from his lips, and then it was suddenly gone and he was left gasping helplessly on the ground. He rolled up onto his knees, only to feel his father gripping a hand in his hair tightly. "Father!" His head was wrenched backwards, neck at an awkward angle.

"You will remember your duty to me, and this family. I will ensure the girl and the child are provided for, but you will have nothing to do with them from this moment onwards. If you defy me, I swear on the graves of our ancestors that I will kill them both, slowly and painfully before your eyes. You belong to me Lucius, and I will not let you destroy our family name because you were distracted by some little slut's charms," Abraxas hissed and roughly shoved his son back down onto the floor.

Lucius laid there, his muscles twitching uncontrollably in the aftereffects of the curse. He couldn't let his father hurt Melisandre…even if it meant pretending to give her up. He felt tears slip down his face, even as his heart hardened. His father may have won this battle, but he swore that he would pay him back in kind one day.

"We'll speak no more of this. Take yourself upstairs and get cleaned up. We're having guests for dinner," Abraxas said, his tone perfectly controlled once more as if they'd just argued over school marks.

Lucius stood slowly, not even acknowledging his father as he left the room. He felt like his heart had been carved out of his chest. He went to his private bathroom and looked into the mirror, disgusted with himself for being so weak. He should have fought harder for Melisandre, for his unborn son. He drove his fist into the mirror. He'd find a way…somehow.

o.o.O.o.o

Lucius stepped onto the Hogwart's express, the searing pain of his left forearm second only to the pain in his heart. He headed for the last compartment, not feeling up to patrolling with the other prefects. He opened the door, and was unable to help the soft smile that crossed his lips. "Mel…" He whispered softly.

"What the hell is this, Lucius?" she demanded, brandishing a letter. "I don't want your father's money…I want *you*."

Lucius entered and warded the door behind him. "It's not what I want either," he said and took her hand, tugging her down to sit with him. "You remember when I told you my father was a dangerous man?" he asked.

Melisandre nodded, letting him speak.

"It was this…or he was going to kill you Mel, you and the baby." Lucius squeezed her hand. "He would do it, you have no idea what he's really capable of. I didn't even know, not really." A shadow passed through his stormy grey eyes. Until this holiday he'd had no inkling of just how cruel his father could be. He'd held him down to be marked by the Dark Lord, as though he were nothing but a tribute to this man. The pain had been indescribable.

"We've always found a way Lucius, we will again." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "This time it'll just be harder."

Lucius nodded. "We can't be seen together at all. My housemates will be watching me for the rest of the year." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "I'll find a way for us to communicate, somehow." He promised. They'd always had to be creative. Dating outside your own House was always tricky, though a Slytherin with a Ravenclaw was one of the least scandalous options. She was the embodiment of her house in his eyes. She had the cool logic that he needed sometimes to temper his own plans and desires.

"I love you Lucius, no matter what happens…remember that," she whispered softly. Melisandre was able to tell that something horrible had happened to him. It was in his posture, his eyes, and screaming to her in all the words he couldn't say.

"No matter what happens, you will always hold my heart. It's far safer in your keeping than in mine," Lucius said frankly. His father would betroth him to someone else, he knew that. Some Slytherin girl with a perfect pedigree, and a fortune to match. He would never love anyone like he loved Mel, he knew that with frightening certainty. "Did you know that Salazar Slytherin was in love with Rowena Ravenclaw, back when it all started?" He said softly.

"I remember you mentioning it once, or twice."

"Before the holidays I found an empty room, near Ravenclaw Tower. Over the windows there is an eagle, entwined with a snake. It's small, easily missed…unless you're looking for it. Maybe that's where they used to meet?" Lucius shifted, wrapping his arms around her and settling her back against his chest.

"It makes sense. They would have needed somewhere to meet in secret. It was rumored that Godric coveted Rowena…and that it was jealousy that drove his rivalry with Salazar, not disagreements over blood purity." She fell into one of their old discussion, finding comfort in it.

"When you come down from the tower, turn left down the corridor. It's the third room. I'll cast a notice-me-not charm on it, and we can leave notes there for one another. It's a start anyway." He tightened his arms around her, wishing this train ride could go on forever. He didn't want to let her go. He buried his face in her dark, chestnut tresses and just breathed in the scent that was uniquely her.

Merlin, he hated this. She was his, a tiny spark of light that he feared losing. His world had always been so dark, and what few lights he had were being snatched away. One by one they were going out, and he knew he'd have to face the coming storm alone. He pressed a kiss to her neck. If facing the dark alone could protect her, he would do it. He owed her nothing less. His father would come to regret the day he made his son into a colder version of himself. Lucius would pay his father back with interest, and sooner than the old bastard would ever see coming.

~Fin~


	37. The Eagle's Nest

**A/N:** Written for Round 8 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Bonus Round [AU] / Prompt: A Different Sorting/Hogwarts House AU / Word Count: 5987

 **A/N2:** Clearly this is an AU so certain qualities of various characters will be emphasized to fit the alternative narrative. The mental voice of the sorting hat will be indicated with the following punctuation :: text ::

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The Sorting Hat had seen many Headmasters come and go over his long tenure, and even more students pass under its brim. While the Founders had graced him with a kind of sentience, he was still tied to the magic of the Castle and bound to the will of the Headmaster…at least to a point. When Albus Dumbledore had succeeded Armando Dippet, he'd made several changes to the way the school was run. All Headmasters did, a way to put their own personal spin on the position. Albus had made a request of the Hat that first year, and it had seemed fairly reasonable at the time. He'd asked that the Hat give a student's choices more weight than any other criteria, and the Hat agreed. Some students would express a desire for one house or another, usually only two or three a year. It hurt nothing to give those children what they wanted, or at least that was how the Hat rationalized it. As the years marched on, a disturbing trend started emerging, more and more students demanding one house over another. Things were growing unbalanced, children slotted into Houses that didn't suit them, and lines being drawn that were never meant to exist.

Last night, the Headmaster had made another request of him, one that rubbed against the very fabric of his creation. It was one push too far. No one, not even the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had the right to direct him where to sort a student. The Headmaster was not the Hat's master, merely a custodian of the school. He'd played by that man's rules for 25 sortings so far, but this sorting would be done according to his original commands. He would put the children where they belonged, where they would flourish, and maybe he could teach an arrogant old Headmaster a lesson in the process.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Hermione took a deep breath as she approached the battered old stool, and took her seat. Professor McGonagall placed the ragged old hat on her head, and she couldn't help but jump as it settled onto her and she felt **something**.

::Ah, so you can feel that mm? A talent for Occlumency one day, but for now, let's see…okay. Clever and keen, and a desire to be the very greatest witch of your age. It's all here you know, right in your head.::

'I want Gryffindor," she thought desperately, trying to make it do what she wanted. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world and he had been a Gryffindor. She could follow his path to success.

::Oh ho! Think you know better than I do? Cunning ploy to try and manipulate me to your wants, but you are not the first. There is a touch of Slytherin in you, but the logic of your decision makes it clear. Better be…:: There was a pause as it's seam opened up and shouted to the room. "Ravenclaw!"

Hermione hopped down, and gave the hat a short scowl, but headed over to the table full of blue and bronze ties. Another first year girl gave her a smile, and they settled in to watch the rest of the sorting.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Draco stood tall, striding purposefully towards the stool. There wasn't a doubt in his mind where he belonged. He sat down, and gazed out at the room imperiously as the hat was settled on his head. He awaited the triumphant proclamation of 'Slytherin'.

::Hmmm…difficult indeed, very difficult,:: The hat's voice echoed through the young wizard's head. ::So much talent, and such a desire to know and understand everything…you'd be utterly wasted in Slytherin, your greater attributes ignored because of the crest on your robes.:: The hat turned reflective.

'No! I have to be in Slytherin…Malfoys are ALWAYS in Slytherin. You have to put me there!' Draco thought in a panicked manner.

::Not entirely true, there have been many Malfoys pass through this school, and not all were sent to the Slytherin Dungeons. More than a few have graced the Eagle's Nest, and you will as well. Better be…::: There was a pause, "RAVENCLAW!"

Draco sat there for a long moment, eyes wide in shock. Professor McGonagall's hand on his shoulder roused him, and with a small smile she shooed him off towards his table. He sat down next to Terry Boot, who he recognized from some of the parties his mother had gone to last year. His father was going to kill him. He remembered his mother's advice though, keep your head up and never let anyone see that you're hurting. He looked around the table and realized that he was going to have to live with mudbloods and half-bloods. He'd need to be careful to avoid making enemies, at least at first.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Harry moved forward, hyper aware of all the whispers spreading through the hall as his name was announced. He wanted to shrink down into his robes and hide. He hated this. He didn't understand how anyone could think he'd defeated some great dark wizard when he was a baby, and why they were all so obsessed with him. He was just Harry, and until a month ago he'd lived in a bloody boot cupboard. What good had fame ever done him? He sat down and the large hat was placed on his head, slumping down over his eyes.

::So, you're the one that has bees in everyone's bonnets. Not what they expect of you at all though…no, not at all.:: The hat was quiet a moment, sorting through the boy's mind. ::There's talent, oh yes and a thirst to prove yourself, but such a brilliant mind too, just hiding. Well, in that case, better be…:: It paused before the child could object. "RAVENCLAW!" it announced to a shocked Great Hall. Inwardly the hat was most pleased. It was fun to thumb his metaphorical nose at pushy Headmasters when the occasion presented itself, and today he'd had the chance to do it more than once.

Harry got off the stool, and headed to the table where there was enthusiastic applause. He met Hermione Granger's eyes and smiled, glad to know someone all ready. He noticed then that Draco Malfoy was there too, but he took a deep breath and offered his hand to the other boy. "Can we start over?" Seven years was a long time to live with someone that hated you. He knew that all too well.

Draco regarded Harry and then took his hand shaking it firmly. "Ok, Potter," he said. His pride was still smarting from earlier, but his father had been clear that Potter was bound to be important in the years to come and that he should try to befriend him. Maybe this would be enough to make his father forgive him for being sorted into the wrong house. Merlin he hoped so.

Draco's pale grey eyes sought out Theodore Nott, sitting at the Slytherin table. The other boy gave him a sympathetic look. He and Theo had known each other since they were small, and had made lots of plans for their time here at Hogwarts. Plans that were now going to be much harder to attain. He sighed, starting a bit as the food suddenly appeared. He realized that the Headmaster had been talking and he'd completely missed it.

"Is he a bit mental?" Harry asked one of the Prefects sitting beside them.

"He can certainly come across that way," the dark haired fifth year said. "Whether he is or not…who knows?"

"My father thinks he's lost his touch," Draco interjected, being careful of his audience. He didn't really *know* any of them, so he'd need to be cautious until he was more certain of their views and motivations.

"Well from everything *I've* read, Dumbledore is the greatest wizard currently alive," Hermione said.

Draco's cheeks coloured a bit, and he was about to respond when the Prefect stepped in.

"Settle down there Miss?" he asked.

"Granger, Hermione Granger," she answered.

"Alright Miss Granger, I'm Tobin Reede. While we love to argue up in the Eagle's Nest, we always do so respectfully. We all love to read, and it's good to remember that what we read is always biased one way or another. I imagine a lot of what you know about Headmaster Dumbledore is from Hogwarts: A History?"

"Yes, and Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century," she added.

"I have a few others you might want to read, to give you the ability to try and form a more balanced opinion," he offered.

"I suppose, thank you." She bit her lip, fairly scandalized at the implication that the books she'd read were somehow incorrect.

"You're Lucius Malfoy's boy aren't you?" Reede asked Draco next.

"Yes, Draco Malfoy," he said and offered his hand. The older boy shook it firmly.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw. If there's anything you need, and I mean any of you. Please come to me, or Miss Clearwater. We're here to help you, and we're happy to do it," he said and looked around the group of first years.

"Thank you Reede," Draco said, feeling a bit less anxious. The food really was amazing, but then his father had told him that the opening feast was spectacular. The desserts alone were enough to make anyone eat more than they should.

"You should try the treacle tart, Potter. It's really good," Draco said, offering the boy a slice.

"Thanks," Harry said, trying a very small bite.

Draco noticed that he didn't seem to eat a lot, but didn't comment. Soon the feast was winding down, and the Headmaster got up to make a few announcements. Most seemed fairly common place, warnings about staying out of the Forbidden Forest, obviously, and not using magic in the corridors. The warning about the third floor corridor was odd though, and he frowned a bit. Maybe his father would know more. They were dismissed to head off to their dormitories, and soon Draco and the other first year students were following Tobin Reede up a set of winding staircases.

After a long trek, up more staircases than Draco cared to count, they arrived at an ornate door with a heavy brass knocker in the shape of an Eagle. The female prefect, Miss Clearwater, came forward to address the group.

"This is the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, our common room and dormitories. The symbol of our house is the Eagle, for it soars over heights no others dare climb. While other Houses have passwords, we choose something slightly different. All of you are here because you embody the virtues prized by Rowena Ravenclaw. When you knock at our door, you must answer a riddle." She turned and grasped the knocker, rapping sharply.

"I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?" the knocker asked.

The older girl turned and looked at them. "Does anyone know?"

Draco stepped forward. "Fire." He smiled as the door opened for them. His eyes went wide as he took in the huge room. There was a vaulted ceiling, and windows everywhere. Bookshelves lined the walls, and everywhere he looked he could see comfortable chairs, couches, desks, and even a few piles of pillows. It was the perfect place to read and study and something about it just felt like home to him.

"It's beautiful…," Hermione whispered from his left, an equal look of wonder on her face.

"It really is," Draco agreed softly.

"All right first years, the dorms are just past the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. Boys up and to your left, girls the same and to your right. The first year rooms are the first doorways you pass. Try and get some sleep. You'll receive your timetables at breakfast tomorrow, and Penelope or I will be waiting to escort you all down," Tobin said and hustled them off to bed.

The five first year boys entered their new dormitory, and Draco found his trunk at the end of the bed opposite the door. His green dragonhide trunk stood out amongst the brown and red trunks everyone else seemed to have. He headed over and opened it up, putting his clothes away in the wardrobe beside his bed. He needed to write his mother tonight, maybe she'd be able to calm his father down. He saw that everyone else was more interested in talking than sorting their things out ,so he sighed and went over.

"Draco, this is Michael Corner, Kevin Entwhistle, and you've already met Harry Potter. Everyone this is Draco Malfoy, his father's on the Hogwarts board of Governors, and a member of the Wizengamot," Terry made the introductions.

"Nice to meet you all," Draco said, resisting the urge to ask Entwhistle if he was a mudblood, but only just.

"Loosen up Malfoy. We're going to be living together for a good seven years…best to relax just a bit." Terry chuckled and patted him on the back.

"I'll try Boot," he said and ran a hand through his hair. "I should write to my parents, and let them know how the sorting went." Draco was dreading it, but he needed to get it over with.

Terry nodded. "Yeah, me too, and we should start unpacking," he said. The boys filtered back to their areas and started unpacking their trunks, while Draco and Terry found their parchment and ink and settled down to write to their families.

Draco finished his letter and melted the end of a stick of green wax over his lantern flame, sealing the letter with his small Malfoy family seal. He sighed, wishing he had brought Kreios after all. Maybe his father would send him to him now that he could keep him up in the dorm. He looked over and saw Potter stroking his owl's feathers and he headed over. "She's beautiful, what's her name?" he asked.

"Hedwig, she was a birthday present." Harry smiled a little.

"Snowy owls are really rare," Draco said and summoned his courage. "Potter could I maybe borrow your owl to send this to my parents? Otherwise I'll have to wait until tomorrow after class, when I can head down to the owlry and find a school owl to use. Hopefully my parents will send my owl back with their reply," he asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded. "Sure, I guess so." He said and looked to Hedwig. "What do you think girl? Can you take this letter to…"

"Lady Narcissa Malfoy, at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire," Draco said to the beautiful owl. She regarded him for a long moment, and then took the letter, promptly flying off into the night. "Thanks Potter, I'll owe you."

"It's fine, I don't really have anyone to send letters to anyway," Harry said.

"What about your relatives? I heard you were living with your mother's muggle family?" He tried very hard to keep the distaste off his face.

"We don't really get on," he said quietly. "Anyway…I should get ready for bed." He turned away to get his new pajamas out of his trunk and headed off to the bathroom to get changed and brush his teeth.

Draco frowned, something about Potter a bit off, but he simply filed it away for later. He finished putting his things away neatly, and laid out his robes for the morning. His mother had told him that being organized was essential to doing well at school, and it was best to start off on the right foot. Being a leader meant getting up earlier, being prepared, and always keeping ahead of his classmates…in everything.

He took his turn in the bathroom and came out, fixing Terry with a scowl. The boy was laughing at him! "Think something's funny?"

"Malfoy…is everything you own green?" Terry grinned, trying not to laugh outrageously.

Malfoy sniffed a bit. "I happen to like green," he said and settled down on his bed.

"What's wrong with green?" Harry asked, looking a bit confused. His expression only deepened as both Terry and Draco laughed at him. "What?"

"Green is Slytherin House's colour Potter, honestly," Draco finally explained once he was able to stop laughing. "My family is always in Slytherin, so it seemed like a safe bet to bring green…well everything." He sighed, sobering up a bit.

"Are you disappointed?" Harry asked, sitting in the window seat between his bed and Draco's.

"A little. I mean Ravenclaw Tower is amazing, but I wanted to be in my mom and dad's old house. What about you?" Draco asked quietly, seeing everyone else getting into bed and shutting their curtains.

"Same. I mean Hagrid told me all these stories about my parents, and how they'd want me to be in Gryffindor like them. I just hope they would still be proud of me," he said, looking out at the night.

"Well, providing that my father doesn't kill me, between the two of us we'll run this school and make our families proud," he said decisively. "Now, we should get some sleep. We wouldn't want to be late on our first day."

Harry gave Draco a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, that would be embarrassing." He got out of the window seat and crawled into his bed, and shut the curtains.

Draco snuggled down into the warm blankets, trying to put his worries aside for the moment. The sorting was finished, and there was nothing he could do to change it. All that was left was to make the best of the situation presented to him.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Lucius Malfoy was in his study when his wife burst in, without even her usual courtesy knock. He set aside the papers he was reading through, and gave her his undivided attention. He had a feeling that this was going to be a rather loud discussion. He lifted his eyebrows questioningly, and flinched as she hurled a crumpled up sheet of parchment at him.

"FIX THIS!" she shouted, looking positively livid.

"Fix what precisely my dear?" He started uncrumpling the ball of parchment and smoothed it out, recognizing his son's penmanship easily enough.

"Our son is in RAVENCLAW! It's an utter farce Lucius, and I will not stand for it! Get him resorted, or I swear by Circe you will be sleeping alone until he graduates!" She turned and stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind him.

Lucius let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and took a moment to center himself. There were times when it was easy to forget who Narcissa was, or rather who her sister was. Tonight was not one of those times. He'd duel a hundred Bellatrix LeStranges, before he'd go toe to toe with one sufficiently angered Narcissa. She might be one of the saner members of her family, but she certainly had the infamous Black temper. He rubbed his temple and smoothed out the letter, settling in to read it.

 _Dear Mother,_

 _I'm writing to let you know that I got to school safely. The welcoming feast was incredible, I've never seen so many different sweets, pastries, and pies in one place. The only snag in the night was the sorting. I wanted to let you know that I was sorted into Ravenclaw, and I hope you're not too disappointed in me. I know father will be angry, but the Sorting Hat claimed that my intelligence would be best fostered in Ravenclaw, no matter how much I asked it to put me in Slytherin. I'm sorry._

 _I don't know many of the children in my year, but Terry Boot and Harry Potter were both sorted into Ravenclaw with me, so at least there's a couple of people of the right sort. The Common Room reminds me a little of the Library at home, so I already feel pretty comfortable. The two fifth year prefects are pretty nice, and they'll be looking after us first years until we get out feet. Their names are Tobin Reede, and Penelope Clearwater. I should say goodnight and get to bed. I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Your son,_

 _Draco L. Malfoy_

Lucius sighed and could feel a headache of rather large proportions settling in. There were absolutely no grounds for a resorting, and to be honest he was secretly pleased that his son had been sorted outside of Slytherin. There was such a stigma these days, that perhaps it would be better for his son to avoid it all together. They were still repairing their reputation, and this sorting would allow his family to break new ground politically and start altering their public image. He stood and decided that perhaps a trip to Gringotts was in order. It was late, certainly, but his great-grandfather Lucard had been a Ravenclaw, and there was bound to be something in the vault that he could send Draco. It was clear his son had expected his mother to be the more understanding ear, but he would need to alter that perception. The Blacks had disowned children for less in years past. They had a hard time accepting such anomalies.

He went to gather his cloak and cane, and apparated to Diagon Alley. He strode confidently through the darkened streets. The Wizarding Bank had no hours, it was one of the things he loved about the Goblins. Any time, night or day, they were there to assist their clients. Upon entering his vault, he headed for the area where the previous Lord Malfoys stored their trunks of personal possessions. Usually when a Lord passed away his son would pack everything neatly, and store it in the family vault for future generations. He found the right trunk easily, the clasp a fearsome looking bronze eagle.

He opened the trunk and sorted through the contents, finding a personal journal and a couple smaller things. He gathered them together, and put them in a blue velvet bag that had been in the trunk as well. He would see about commissioning a special trunk for Draco for his Yule gift…something to show that he supported his son and heir, despite his Sorting. Draco had always been a rather sensitive child, so he would take some careful handling. He would also have a long talk with his wife before she was allowed to write to him again. He would not have her destroy their son's fragile confidence with a nastily worded letter. He knew full well how Narcissa could wield a quill more efficiently than a master assassin wielded a blade.

He left the bank feeling confident that he'd made the right choice. He'd send Draco's owl with the gift and letter, so he'd be able to have his familiar close at hand. Lucius was certain that it would bring him some comfort. His course decided, Lucius apparated home.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Bright and early the next morning, Draco got up. As he went into the bathroom, he noticed that someone else was already awake. He slipped into the second shower stall, and grabbed a quick shower before getting dressed. As he came out to the sinks, he nodded to Potter. It was good to see that the boy understood the importance of getting an early start, it spoke well for him. He combed his hair back, a little gel keeping it in place. He glanced over to see Potter scowling at his hair, which seemed completely resistant to any attempt to style it. "Did you want a hand with that Potter?" he asked.

"Nothing's ever helped," Harry sighed. "But be my guest."

Malfoy grabbed a bit of his gel, rubbed it between his fingers, and smoothed it through Potter's black hair. Then he used his comb to style it into submission. He used the setting charm, and gave it an approving nod. "Better than it was anyway," he said.

"That's wicked, what is that stuff?" Potter asked, smiling at his new tidy hairdo.

"Seeker Styling Gel, guaranteed to keep your hair in place even in a quidditch game." He showed him. "You can order it from Quality Quidditch Supplies, by owl order," he said.

"I'll have to get some," Harry said, and finished getting ready.

"All set Potter?" he asked.

"I think so," Harry said.

"Let's head downstairs while we wait for the others." Draco really wanted to check out the view from the windows.

Harry nodded, and together the two boys walked down the stairs, finding Hermione Granger already up as well. Draco mentally gritted his teeth and nodded. "Morning Granger," he said.

"Morning Malfoy, Harry," she smiled. "I like your hair like that."

Harry ducked his head a bit. "Thanks, Malfoy helped me with it."

"You three are up bright and early." Penelope Clearwater came down, smiling at them. "Would you like to come down to breakfast with me? Tobin can take the others."

The three first-years nodded happily, and followed the Prefect out of the Tower and down through the school. Penelope pointed out the trick steps on the stairs, and even a shortcut from the Charms corridor down to the dungeons. She said there were plenty of secret and not so secret passages and rooms throughout the entire castle, and half the fun was hunting for them.

They entered the Great Hall and sat down at their table as breakfast popped up in front of them. Draco helped himself to some scrambled eggs, toast and fruit, surprised to see Granger doing much the same. Potter was picking at his bacon and sausage, ignoring the fruit all together. His mother always made him eat a light breakfast, said it was 'better for him'.

Their timetables were handed out by Professor Flitwick, a diminutive wizard who nearly fell over when he realized who Potter was. Draco repressed a snort at that. "Thank you, Professor," he said politely as he took his. He smiled widely when he saw that they had double Potions this afternoon with the Hufflepuffs.

"Why are you smiling?" Granger asked.

"Professor Snape's my godfather, we have him for double Potions this afternoon. He's really incredible. He was the youngest Potions Master in three hundred years, and sat his Mastery exam only six months after graduation," Draco said excitedly.

"That's amazing! I thought you had to apprentice for two years to take a Mastery exam?" Hermione asked, looking very keen.

"It can be waived if two other Masters sign off on your application, Professor Snape had three," Draco said with authority. "He did tell me to review chapters 11 in our Potions Book and Chapter 53 in our Herbology text before the first lesson," he shared the information with his new classmates. "He always quizzes his first years in their first class to set the tone for the year."

"We should review both over lunch, so it's fresh in our minds," Granger agreed.

Harry nodded as well. "I'd hate to look ill-prepared," he said. "I read both books over once, but I didn't think we'd need to know them in detail on our first day."

"Stick with me in Potions Potter, and you'll do all right. Granger, you should partner with Morag McDougall or Terry Boot," he told the girl.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, not missing how he'd claimed Harry for himself.

"McDougall's mum works as a Healer at St. Mungos, she'd know a lot about potions and Terry's had some tutoring over the last year so he'll at least know the basics right off," Draco said. "Having a good partner in Potions is essential." He nodded sagely.

"All right, I'll ask Morag once she gets down here," she relented.

Draco was now in a very good mood, and looking forward to Charms and Herbology this morning. He wasn't the biggest fan of plants, but he understood their importance to Potions. You really needed to be proficient in both areas if you wanted to be a Master in either one. He nodded to the others as they arrived with Reede, looking much sleepier than the trio studying their timetables. Most of their double periods would be with the Hufflepuffs, except for Double Transfigurations which would be with Slytherin. He mentally thanked Merlin that they didn't have any classes with the Gryffindors this year.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_HDH_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The morning had been uneventful, with both Charms and Herbology being more of an introductory class than any practical work. They had both classes again later in the week, so they would have time to read up more on their theory before attempting any spells or working with any plants. Draco was fairly bouncing with excitement as they headed down into the dungeons behind one of the 7th year Prefects.

Draco dragged Potter up to the front bench, and nodded to Boot and Granger to sit directly behind them. They'd all poured over their books at lunch, making sure to be prepared for this very important first class. The Hufflepuffs were much slower finding their seats, when the door opened with a BANG, making almost everyone jump. His Godfather swept into the room, scowling at everyone. He'd seen him in his teaching robes a few times, but he'd never seen him look quite so formidable.

Professor Snape perched on the edge of his desk, and began his usual first year speech. His coal-black eyes roved through the room, taking in each of his new students. He finished and noted that both his godson, and the Potter boy looked equally enraptured. He made himself look away as he took roll call, associating faces and names. Other than his godson, there were no other children of his former…associates, and that would allow him to teach far more impartially than he would have to later in the week for the Slytherin/Gryffindor first year class. That was giving him a migraine all ready and it was days away. "Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he snapped suddenly.

Harry's eyes went wide and then he remembered Draco pointing out that potion. "A powerful sleeping potion called Draught of Living Death,…Sir," he added the 'sir' to the end of that statement as Draco kicked him under the table.

"Very good, two points to Ravenclaw. Miss Abbot, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" He fixed his gaze on the other side of the room.

"Umm….an apothecary, sir?" She looked panicked, her blue eyes impossibly wide.

"While most apothecaries will stock them, I am more interested in their actual origins. I expect all of you to come to class properly prepared. Two points from Hufflepuff. Can anyone else tell me where to find a bezoar?" he asked, dark eyes sweeping the room. A bushy-haired Ravenclaw girl raised her hand. "Miss Granger?"

"A bezoar is a stone commonly found in the stomach of a goat. It can save you some most poisons," she said clearly.

"Something all of you should remember. Two points to Ravenclaw." Professor Snape smiled a little. "Ah…Mr. Longbottom, can you tell me the difference between Monkshood and wolf's bane?" He looked at the pudgy boy sitting on the Hufflepuff side.

"There…there's no difference, they are the same plant, sir," he replied shakily. "It's more commonly known as Aconite."

"Correct, two points to Hufflepuff. Now, all of you open your books to page twelve. Today we will be attempting the Cure for Boils potion, instructions are both in your books and on the board. You will work in pairs, and at the end of the period I expect a vial with your attempt in it. Label it clearly with your names, the date, and the name of your potion. Once you finish you may clean down your stations, and then read quietly at your seats. Get to work," he said and sat down, keeping a close eye without appearing to.

Draco gathered the ingredients, while Potter got their equipment ready. They settled into a kind of rhythm with Draco prepping the ingredients, and Harry adding them to the cauldron. It seemed to go very smoothly. Soon they were removing their cauldron from the heat, working together to keep from spilling it, and then adding in the porcupine quills. The two boys held their breath as pink smoke began to curl up from the top of their cauldron.

"Very nice work Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Five points each to Ravenclaw for the first successful potion of the day," Professor Snape said as he passed behind them.

"Thank you Sir!" Draco smiled happily, pleased that he hadn't embarrassed himself. He filled their labelled vial and sealed it carefully with wax, while Potter started cleaning up. He was surprised to see how thorough Potter was, without having to be told. Draco had learned proper cleaning techniques from his godfather…but he knew most students didn't have that kind of instruction. He shook his head a little and went to turn their vial in. He saw pink smoke rising from Granger and Boot's cauldron, and a few others. He sat down with Potter as others started clearing down, and he saw Susan Bones avert disaster by stopping Longbottom from adding his quills before they turned off the heat. That would have been really bad.

As a group, they left the Dungeons feeling pretty positive about their first day. They'd netted a handful of points for their House, and impressed three of their instructors. All in all it was a pretty good day. Draco told Granger and McDougall that he'd be back down in a few minutes to start outlining his potions homework, once he'd put his books away.

He entered his dorm and saw Kreois perched beside his bed, a letter and a small box sitting there on his pillow. He smiled and went over to the owl, stroking his feathers. "Thank you boy," he whispered and then he sat down on the bed, picking up the letter first. It was his father's handwriting, and he braced himself for what might be inside.

 _My little Dragon,_

 _Congratulations on your sorting. I know that it was not what any of us expected, but I am very proud of you nonetheless. Your mother is having a slightly harder time coming to terms with it, however I am confident she will come around. Your great-great-grandfather, Lucard Malfoy, was in Ravenclaw and went on to do many great things. I made a visit to Gringotts after we received your letter, and retrieved a few tokens for you from the family vault. I hope that these will reassure you that while you may not be in Slytherin, you are every bit as much a Malfoy as I am._

 _I am pleased to hear that you will have a much better opportunity to court Mr. Potter as a potential friend and ally, it would have certainly been much harder if you had been sorted into different houses. If you continue to get along, perhaps we can consider inviting him to the Manor for Yule, or over Eostra. Keep me informed._

 _Remember, that without an intelligent and cultured mind, ambition is wasted. Be clever, be cunning, and most of all be yourself my Dragon._

 _Your Father_

Draco felt tears in his eyes as he reached for the box. He tapped it with his wand and it enlarged. Inside was a well-worn leather bound book with the initials _L.M._ on it, and a blue velvet bag. He opened the bag and found two things inside. There was a beautiful bronze cloak pin, in the shape of a striking eagle. The other item was a heavy gold ring, it had a flat blue stone with the Ravenclaw crest engraved on it, and inside the band read the words _'Wit Beyond Measure'_. Draco slipped it on and closed his eyes, relief and acceptance washing over him. He would embrace this path, and he would accomplish great things all the same.

~Fin~


	38. For Dora

**A/N:** Written for round 8 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short [Prefect Bonus entry] / Prompt: Remus Lupin / Word Count: 1208

 **A/N2:** Slight AU, Remus survived the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

"So are you ready for today?" Andromeda asked, setting a mug of coffee down in front of her son-in-law. There was a soft expression on her face. She did worry about him.

"I still miss her," Remus whispered softly. "Especially on days like this. She should be the one taking him to Diagon Alley for his first wand." Sometimes he wished that he'd been the one to die that night, wished that Nymphadora been spared. He felt so poorly equipped to handle things, from bedtime stories to scraped knees. He felt like he made a million mistakes, and only Andromeda stood between him and utter disaster.

Andromeda reached over and placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. "She'd be very proud of you, just as I am. Teddy thinks the world of you Remus, and you've been there for him through everything. You look at me, right now. Dora knew what she was doing when she went to fight. It was war, and she knew that one or both of you might die, but that our side needed every single wand. Even when you were drowning in your grief, you always put Teddy first. This is an important day for him, and I know that there is no one else he'd rather make the trip with."

Remus met her eyes and smiled softly. "I'd be lost without you Andromeda," he said.

"I know." She smiled and stood, pressing a motherly kiss to the crown of his head, as she went to start breakfast. It was a miracle that Teddy wasn't already up, and racing around excitedly. She sincerely doubted they'd have much longer to enjoy their morning coffee in peace.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Teddy came racing down the stairs. "Dad! Do you remember what today is?" His eyes were shining bright blue and his hair was spinning wildly between red and gold. The older he had gotten, the more pronounced his abilities had become. It was a little piece of Dora left for those that had loved her.

"Hmmm…I'm not sure, I don't think we had any plans today…" Remus teased his son, looking slightly confused.

"Dad! Diagon Alley! You promised we could go today!" Teddy pouted.

"Ah yes…I did promise didn't I?" Remus chuckled, and ruffled his son's hair. "Grab a seat and let's get some breakfast into you. We can't have you fainting from hunger before you get your wand, can we?"

Andromeda chuckled and sat a bowl of porridge in front of him, and poured him a glass of orange juice. "It's a very special thing, to get your very first wand. Enjoy every minute of it." She smiled down at him fondly.

"What kind of wand do you have, Grandma?" Teddy asked, tucking into his breakfast, swinging his feet back and forth as he was forced to sit still for five minutes.

"My wand is Pine, with a core of Dragon Heartstring. It has always served me quite well." Andromeda smiled, and pulled it out for her grandson to see. "But as Mr. Ollivander will tell you, it is the wand that chooses the witch or wizard. When you get home, I'll show you a book on wand lore," she promised.

"What about you Dad?" Teddy asked, looking over at his father.

"Mine is Cypress, with a core of unicorn hair," Remus said with a fond smile. He remembered the excitement of getting his wand, and how he'd longed to know absolutely everything about it.

"They don't hurt the unicorns do they?" Teddy gave him a dubious look.

"Of course not," Remus said kindly.

"Ok." He nodded happily, finishing his breakfast in record time, much to the amusement of his father and grandmother. "When are we going?"

"Go and get dressed, and we'll leave in about an hour," Remus said, chuckling a little to himself as his son all but flew out of the kitchen. "If only I had his energy," he chuckled a bit.

"Have fun today, try not to lose him in the Weasley's shop again, mmm?" She smiled at him, watching as he got up to go and get ready to visit the alley himself.

o.o.O.o.o

"Come on Dad! It's right there!" Teddy tugged on his father's hand, trying to get him to hurry as they approached Ollivander's.

Remus chuckled and relented, speeding up just a touch to satisfy his son. He entered the shop, and closed his eyes a moment. The familiar smells of dust, old parchment and wood surrounded him. He saw the frail form of Garrick Ollivander come forward through the stacks of wand boxes. He nodded respectfully to him.

"Ah…young Mr. Lupin, I've been waiting to see you here." He smiled kindly at the young man. "I can remember when your father came here to get his wand, all those years ago." He helped the boy up onto a platform and with the wave of a hand his tape measure flew over, taking all sorts of silly measurements.

Remus leaned against the counter and watched, listening as Ollivander recounted the epically long search he'd had for his wand. He remembered despairing that he wouldn't be chosen by any wand, and that his dream of going to Hogwarts was just a cruel trick. He'd been afraid that no wand would want a werewolf like him. At one point he'd nearly dissolved into tears, and then Ollivander had come out with one last wand. It had felt like home. It was a magical moment for any young wizard.

He watched as the first few wands were brought out. None seemed to quite fit, and he saw his son frowning as he handed another wand back. Ollivander disappeared back into the stacks and Remus went forward. "Chin up Teddy, you'll find the perfect wand. Sometimes it just takes a while," he reassured him and patted his shoulder.

"Indeed it does, Remus." Ollivander smiled and opened a box, offering it to Teddy. "Try this one, young man," he said.

Teddy reached in, picking up the pale honey-coloured wand. The reaction was instantaneous. Warmth flowed up through the wood into his hand. He flicked his wrist, and a shower of gold sparks filled the air. He smiled at his dad.

"Well done son," Remus praised him, pleased that he'd found his so quickly.

"Rowan wood, 11 inches, with a core of unicorn hair," Ollivander told him. "Perhaps you have a future as a talented duelist Mr. Lupin."

"Wicked," Teddy exclaimed.

Remus chuckled. "Thank you Garrick," he said and paid the man.

"It's my pleasure, pass my regards along to Mrs. Tonks," he said kindly.

"I will," he promised and escorted his son outside. His boy was growing up so quickly, and would be off to Hogwarts in less than a month. He hoped that Dora would be pleased with their son, how he'd grown. Remus knew that she'd be with him in spirit on September 1st, as he put their son on the Hogwarts Express for the very first time. 'He's so much like you, Dora. I almost feel sorry for old Minerva,' he thought to himself with a smirk, as they headed for Fortescue's for a celebratory ice cream. Hogwarts wasn't going to know what hit it.

~Fin~


	39. Erebos

**A/N:** Written for Round 9 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Pets] / Prompt: Hogsmeade / Word Count: 791

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Severus turned his collar up against the wind and icy rain as he made his way through the darkened streets of Hogsmeade. He'd called the little wizarding village his home for nearly five years now, for he had a small apothecary shop, and the needs of the Hogwarts students alone kept him very well-funded. Who'd ever have thought he'd be grateful for that great herd of dunderheads? He cleared his throat, and paused a moment, massaging the still tender flesh. His neck wound had never truly healed. The skin was closed, and he was in no danger of bleeding to death, but it still pained him to this day. He sighed, and was about to head onwards when he heard a rather pitiful cry from the darkness of the alley.

Severus pulled his wand and cast a silent _Lumos,_ eyes searching for the source of the sound. He heard it again, and he headed for a group of trashcans at the back of the alley. Severus peered behind them and saw a tiny ball of black fur. It moved a little, and suddenly two impossibly green eyes looked up at him, and mewed weakly again. He reached down and scooped the pathetic creature up, promptly tucking it into his jacket.

"Well, we can't leave you out here to freeze," he said quietly, continuing on to his shop. It was quite cold for the end of October, and he was honestly surprised this rain had not turned to sleet or snow.

Severus took the stairs at the back of his Apothecary up to his flat, where he ignited the fire in the grate with a wave of his hand. He made a little nest for his unexpected guest, tucking a soft flannel blanket into an empty crate. Settling the make-shift bed beside the fire, he placed the kitten in it. On closer inspection the little thing was just skin and bones, looking scarcely old enough to be away from its mother. He'd never been one for pets, but something about this abandoned, unloved, little thing tugged at his heartstrings.

"I suppose you can stay," Severus said at length. The little thing had the audacity to purr in response, and he deigned to stroke its tiny head with his thumb. "You'll be needing some food I imagine," he mused to himself and stood, going into his kitchen and finding some leftover chicken. He warmed it up with a little chicken stock, then put it in a saucer before taking it over to the tiny kitten. He left the creature to eat what it pleased, and went to take off his cloak and outer robes. He'd been coming back from the Three Broomsticks, where Potter had joined him for a few drinks to his parent's memory. They did it every year on Halloween, a macabre little ritual to be sure, but it helped to have someone to commiserate with. It wasn't as though he honestly had any other friends to share a drink with.

Severus unbuttoned his collar and let out a sigh of relief. The pressure on his throat was a kind of agony, but it was a familiar pain these days. Lost in his memories, he nearly jumped when something brushed his leg. Looking down, he saw the little kitten was rubbing against his ankle. He snorted and reached down, picking it up and carrying it back over to its bed. "You need to warm up, so stay put," he told it firmly before placing it back in the little blanket nest.

Shaking his head over the sheer inanity of speaking to a cat as if it could comprehend him, Severus poured himself a drink. He settled down into his favourite armchair and leaned back into the plush cushions. He'd closed his eyes, but soon was forced to crack one open as the little beast saw fit to jump up onto him. The thing was purring loudly, and snuggled into his lap. "Whatever am I going to do with you?" He stroked it gently. "You'll be needing a name, if you're going to stay."

The kitten turned it's large, luminous green eyes up at him.

Severus considered for a moment. "What about Felix?" he asked, and then jumped as the kitten dug its nails in. "Opinionated little thing aren't you? Let's see…Hellebore? Asphodel? Raucous?" The claws dug in deeper, and the eyes seemed to bore right through him. Then it came to him. "Erebos, I think that will suit you quite well."

The kitten released his flesh, and began to purr away contentedly. It was behaving as though being named for a god of primordial darkness pleased it immensely. Severus sipped his fire-whiskey and smiled to himself. For once, his little flat in Hogsmeade actually felt like a real home.

~Fin~


	40. Not Alone

**A/N:** Written for Round 9 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Haunted House / Word Count: 643

o.o.O.o.o

It had been nearly a week since Hermione had moved into her new home, which an anonymous source had bequeathed to her not long after the war. Although a team of Curse-Breakers had cleared the property, and all the paperwork had been above board, she was nervous about moving in. But regardless of her misgivings, the reality was that Hermione simply had nowhere else to go, and she secretly hated being dependant on the goodwill of Harry or the Weasleys. She needed to find a place of her own — she just hadn't expected it to be a bloody old castle.

'Norman Keep, actually,' she corrected herself. It was the middle of the night, and she just couldn't seem to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Hermione knew she was being ridiculous, there was nothing wrong with the place. Determine not to fall prey to her overactive imagination, she shut her eyes and tried to drift off.

Footsteps started echoing off the stone in the hallway and she bolted upright in bed, her heart hammering in her chest. Her wards should have kept even a hoard of Dark Lords out. Who the hell was in her home?! She reached the door and flung it open, her wand ready to curse the person in the hallway, but there was no one there. The long dark passage lay empty and silent.

" _Homenium Revelio!"_ The spell fizzled out, revealing no hidden presence in the hallway. Hermione swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. Moving through down the corridor carefully, she crept forward on silent feet. A simple non-verbal lumos cast light over the space. Reaching the end of the hall, she knew that sleep would remain elusive until she checked the wards. The stones were cold on her feet, and the oppressive silence wrapped around her, something ominous about it.

The eerie sound of a piano playing echoed through the empty halls and rooms, drawing Hermione further from the safety of her bed. The melody was unfamiliar, but set her teeth on edge. The minor chords of the song made the shadows seem to grow thicker, like liquid pools of darkness. Her heart beat fast inside her chest, like a bird trying to escape a cage.

"Who's there? This isn't funny!" Hermione's voice echoed back to her, repeating over and over, mocking her as she searched. "STOP IT!" she screamed at the darkness, running now.

She reached the front door of the Keep but it wouldn't open. Tears ran down her face, while she wrenched at the door desperately trying to escape the house. Spell after spell failed to unlock the heavy wooden barrier. Hermione spun around and pressed her back to the door, drawing in deep ragged breaths. The sound echoed in the darkness around her. 'Think Hermione…think…there's another way out, down the back staircase.' She gripped her wand and bolted for it. Once she was outside she could disapparate and she'd be away from whatever this was.

Hermione hurried down the spiral staircase, and was about halfway down when something hit her in the middle of her back and she was tumbling down the stone steps. Hands flew out as she fought to stop her fall, but she careened down the rest of the flight, coming to rest at the base of the stairs. The damp smell of earth surrounded her down here, heavy on the back of her tongue. She tried to move, to feel for her wand, but pain soon defeated her attempts. The laughter that surrounded her broken body in the darkness, was one that she'd know anywhere. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Bellatrix.

The evil witch's voice came from the deepest shadows. "Welcome home mudblood…you're never getting out of this place alive."

Hermione closed her eyes, praying for the morning to come and save her. But it never did.

~Fin~


	41. Box of Chocolates

**A/N:** Written for Round 9 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Chocolate / Word Count: 2582

This story takes place approximately 5 years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

It had started with a small box of high-end chocolate truffles placed innocuously on the corner of her desk. Hermione had picked up the small box, which had been wrapped in gold paper and tied with a green silk ribbon. There was a small tag attached to the ribbon, and it read very simply, ' _You deserve this'._

She'd cast nearly a dozen different spells on the package before opening it. After she'd carefully removed the gold paper and lifted the lid, she found a company name embossed in gold script inside. The name was something French that she didn't recognize. Four truffles sat inside the box, and after being certain there was nothing tainting them, she tried one and nearly melted into a puddle of contentment in her chair. The stress of this week's meetings were suddenly far from her mind as she tried to puzzle out who had left the mystery gift.

"Anna, did you see who left this?" Hermione asked the witch who worked the desk at the front of the Minister's office.

"No, but it's been pretty busy today," she said apologetically.

"Well, it is the last day before the new session starts in the Wizengamot," Hermione replied. "Of course it's a madhouse. Don't worry about the package Anna, I'll see you in the morning." Hermione walked away, shaking her head a little. All the members seemed to take joy in waiting until the very last minute to submit bills for reading, not caring about the staff that needed to read them over before they could be presented. When Kingsley had asked her to transfer from the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, he'd neglected to mention now utterly nerve-shattering working for him could be. This week alone there had been two near duels that the Aurors on duty had needed to break up, six injuries from exploding howlers, and they had gone through another set of interns. She'd been here for nearly a full year now, and the patterns were starting to become familiar.

Kingsley had put her in charge of the New Legislations branch, and while she loved the challenge of it sometimes it felt like she was living in the office. Her relationship with Ron had been the first casualty of her new position, dying a spectacular death only three months after her transfer. She'd been slogging through her first full session at Kingsley's side when she'd caught Ronald at the Leaky Cauldron with his tongue down Lavender Brown's throat. The argument that had followed had been chronicled in the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and several other less reputable gossip rags. It was probably the first time that Hermione had been painted as the innocent victim, but her relief had been short lived. The humiliation and pain of having her ex-fiance's conquests splashed over the front page had been difficult to stomach. Burying herself in work had been an easy solution, one that she was still very committed to embracing.

Over the week that followed, the chocolates and their mystery sender slipped completely from her mind. There were long days sitting in the Wizengamot, and even longer nights in the office prepping Kingsley's notes for the next day's business. There was a piece of pro-werewolf legislation being argued this week, and she felt like she was going blind on the research. When her quill snapped as she was recording a critical side-effect of Wolfsbane potion, she swore as she reached down to open her drawer. To her surprise, there was another box of chocolates in there, nestled between her spare quills and un-opened bottles of ink. Hermione blinked at it, then took it out. This box was a longer, more rectangular, though it was wrapped in the same gold paper as before. This time there was a piece of folded up parchment tucked under the green ribbon. Hermione slipped it out and unfolded it.

 _I hope my gifts are a welcome reprieve from your day. You deserve to have someone to spoil you & shower you with the finest things in life. ~ An Admirer_

Hermione didn't recognize the elegant script, but it was clearly a man's writing. After her usual detection spells came up negative, she opened the box and tried one of the chocolates. They were dark chocolate, and their centers were the creamiest caramel that she'd ever tasted. The sweet, slightly salted confection melted on her tongue, the perfect counterpoint to the slightly bitter dark chocolate, and she repressed a moan of pleasure. She'd never been allowed sweets as a child, but chocolates were a guilty pleasure of hers. Whoever had sent them was either the luckiest guesser in the world or someone who knew her very well. His identity, however, remained an enigma.

o.o.O.o.o

Every week that followed brought with it another box of chocolates and a short but sweet message to up lift her. Every single box had been different, but her favourites by far had been the dark chocolate truffles. She had come in early that day, nerves strung out in anticipation of the vote on the Werewolf Rights Bill. While the bill had been proposed by Harry and he'd _technically_ written it, she had secretly helped him draft it. If they were to dedicate it to Remus' memory, it had to pass. Hermione was so distracted by the upcoming vote that she didn't even notice the massive vase of flowers on her desk until she was right in front of it.

She did a double-take when the riot of colour registered, then she leaned forward to smell the flowers. The fragrance coming off the lilies was intoxicating. Beside the vase, there sat a familiar box and she smiled, reaching for the note first.

' _Good luck today.'_

"It looks like you have an admirer, Hermione," Kingsley called from the door of his office.

Hermione smiled. "They've been sending me gifts for months now. I just wish I knew who it was."

"When they're ready, they'll let you know." He gave her a warm grin.

"Did you see who put them here?" she asked, knowing he was the only one who got to the office earlier than she did.

"No, they were already there when I got in this morning. Whoever they are, they're good." He winked. "So, ready for today?"

"I think so, I have all the notes ready for you." She pulled them out of her warded desk drawer.

"I want you to read the address today," Kingsley said, meeting her eyes. "This bill has been your baby, Hermione, and you deserve the chance to put it to bed."

Hermione took a nervous breath, but nodded. "Thank you Kings." The remainder of her morning was spent preparing for her presentation to the main body of the Wizengamot. The time seemed to race by, and before she knew it, Kingsley was at her desk to collect her. She took one last look at her beautiful flowers before she stood and walked out of the office with her head held high.

The more superfluous matters were attended to first, and finally her moment came. Hermione stood and approached the lectern. "Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, today we are here to vote on Bill 44981. This bill was presented for our consideration by Lord Potter, and you have all had several weeks to read it over and propose amendments. Currently in wizarding Britain, those afflicted with lycanthropy face daily discrimination and hardship. They are unable to obtain gainful employment, attend school, or even vote. We make the brewing of Wolfsbane so highly regulated that it is completely unobtainable, even though it is the only substance which renders them harmless to others. As many of you know, Lord Potter has dedicated this bill to the memory of Remus Lupin, a close friend of his father and hero of the Battle of Hogwarts. This simple piece of legislation would allow werewolves to become productive, safe members of our society by entitling them to the same educations, and employment opportunities as any other witch or wizard here in Britain. It would remove restrictions on the brewing and sale of wolfsbane potion, and establish a secure tract of land for the full moon to ensure that there are fewer accidental infections each year. My Lords and Ladies, I ask each of you to give careful consideration to the good this can do, and vote to pass Bill 44981. I open the floor for comment." After Hermione finished speaking, she took her seat, her knees shaking under her dress robes.

There was much arguing back and forth, and then the floor was granted to someone she had not expected to speak. Draco Malfoy moved down to take the floor. Since his father had stepped down as Lord Malfoy and ceded his seat to his son, Draco had been a politically neutral figure. He stayed out of the controversial debates, preferring instead to work hard at re-establishing his family's reputation.

"My fellow Lords and Ladies, today I speak in favour of Lord Potter's bill. I do not often add my voice to the debates of this great house, because of my youth and inexperience in comparison to those of you that have served our community for decades. Today, however, I cannot remain silent. During the last wizarding war, Fenrir Greyback used the werewolves of Britain to fight in aide of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was only able to do so because we had spent centuries marginalizing and discriminating against them. In one breath this body condemned You-Know-Who for his blood prejudice, while displaying equal prejudice against werewolves and other non-human magical creatures. The only way to continue to heal and move forward as a society is to eliminate prejudice in every level of our government. I feel this is the best way to start. Thank you." Draco's voice echoed through the chamber, displaying a command that had been so often employed by his father. There was real passion there, and his cool grey eyes dared anyone to disagree with him. "I move for an immediate vote," he said after a moment of silence.

The Supreme Mugwump stood, then nodded. "The motion is seconded by Lord Potter. All members in favour of Bill 44981, make yourselves known."

Hermione's heart was in her throat as the members in favour lifted their hands. Harry and Malfoy were the first, and then others began to spring up all around them. She felt tears in her eyes as nearly three quarters of the entire assembly indicated they were in favour of passing the bill. It was a huge moment for creature rights. She felt Kingsley touch her shoulder and whisper his quiet congratulations before standing and adding his endorsement of the new bill as it was signed into law.

When the Wizengamot was dismissed, Hermione headed down from the benches and gave Harry a warm hug. "Remus would be so proud," she whispered.

"Thank you for all your help, Hermione. I couldn't have done it without you," Harry said and pulled back. "We should all celebrate. Why don't I invite everyone over to the house for dinner? It'll be like old times."

"Maybe another time, Harry. I have a lot of paperwork to finish up tonight. Give everyone my best." She made her excuses and slipped away. She knew Ron would be there, and she just couldn't do it. It would kill something inside of her to see him with Lavender. She returned to the office, managing to avoid anyone else that might try to talk her into ignoring her work and going out to celebrate.

Hermione stepped off the lift and let out a sigh of relief as the blissful silence of the office wrapped around her. After the emotion and stress of the day's session, she was looking forward to quietly sitting at her desk and filing things away. But her hopes were shattered in an instant when she saw Malfoy sitting on the edge of her desk. There was no reason for him to be up here, and certainly not at her private work space. "Malfoy? What are you doing up here? The Minister will be tied up with the reporters for hours yet." Her heels clicked loudly on the polished wood floors as she strode to her desk trying her best not to meet his eyes.

"I'm not here to see the Minister," Draco said as he got to his feet, turning to watch her as she approached.

Hermione frowned. "Everyone will be taking off early." Then, hating that a bigot like Malfoy had actually played a part in getting this to pass, she forced herself to say, "Thank you for adding your voice to this."

"Of course. And you seem to still be here, Granger." A little smirk turned up the corner of his lips, as if he knew some little secret she didn't. "Why aren't you leaving like the rest of them?"

"Unlike everyone else, I understand that there's still work to be done." She sighed. "Can I help you with something?"

Draco reached into his pocket, chuckling as her hand twitched towards her wand. "Merlin's balls Granger, I'm not going to hex you. I just wanted to give you this and say congratulations. I know that Bill was your work, especially since it was far too well written to be Potter's work." He offered her a small box.

Hermione's words caught in her throat as she accepted the gold wrapped box, tied with an achingly familiar green ribbon. She untied the box under his silent gaze. Inside was a piece of folded up parchment, resting on top of the dark chocolate truffles. She unfolded it, seeing the same writing that had accompanied every single box of chocolates for months. _'Dinner?'_

"What do you say Granger? Give an arrogant prat a chance?" he asked after a long moment.

"Why?" she asked, utterly caught off guard.

"Because I want to be good enough to deserve a witch like you. Think you could help me with that?" A rare hint of vulnerability rang through in his tone. His jaw was tight, bracing for her rejection.

For once Hermione Granger was at a complete loss for words as she tried to reconcile the sweet, insightful notes from the past three months with a boy she'd thought hated her. "How did you know I liked chocolate?" she asked.

"It was the only thing you'd ever buy at Honeydukes." He blushed a little. "Everyone else would load up on everything in sight, but you only ever bought those little boxes of dark chocolate truffles."

"Why would you notice? We hated each other." Her heart was beating quickly under her breastbone.

"Do you have any idea how brilliant you are? I wanted to hate you, and I was supposed to, but I couldn't. I've never known anyone like you. You're a force of nature, and when you believe in something you fight tooth and nail until you win. I've never felt that strongly about anything in my life," he admitted. "So here goes nothing. Miss Granger, would you care to join me for dinner? I know a little French place that makes an incredible chocolate soufflé." He gave her a teasing grin.

"Well, I suppose if there's going to be chocolate," she agreed. The smile that lit his entire face made her glad that she'd decided to give him a chance. After all, it was only dinner.

~Fin~


	42. Healing Words

**A/N:** Written for Round 9 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story [Prefect Bonus Story] / Prompt: Myths / Word Count: 1258

 **A/N2:** In the Harry Potter Universe, Morgan Le Faye was a real witch, one of the first to become a successful animagus, and known for her healing abilities. The poem 'Lady of Shalott' by Lord Tennyson is loosely based on the story of Elaine of Asolat, and was adapted into a song by Loreena McKinnett. I own no rights to either the poem or the song.

o.o.O.o.o

Darkness: pervasive, all-encompassing, and complete. It was only fitting that darkness would be his end, as it had been his beginning as well. Severus was in that blissful place where there was no longer any pain, his task finally ended. A part of his mind wondered what came next, some strange afterlife or just nothingness stretching on forever. It had been so long since he'd been without pain, a blessing in and of itself. Slowly, through the void, he became aware of a voice whispering to him. He couldn't focus on its substance, only the comforting tone and soothing rhythm of the words.

Time ceased to have meaning for him in this place, and there was nothing but that voice. Slowly the words started to have form, making sense to his addled brain. It was a woman's voice, achingly familiar but he wasn't able to place it. He was still wrapped in the unyielding dark of unconsciousness, but he was starting to doubt that he was dead. In no version of the afterlife he could imagine would there be such a warm, caring presence waiting for him.

" _As Arthur lay there, suspended in that place between life and death, his knights conveyed his body to a ship. Carried forth by the waves, the ship bore him forth, to the mystical Island of Avalon. Waiting there were nine great witches, the very greatest amongst them was Morgan La Faye. Morgan took to the air, sensing the approach of the mortally wounded king, her wings giving her a freedom others only dared to dream of. Death beckoned to the great king, but the steady beat of Morgan's wings bade him remain amongst the living. She knew how close death was to claiming Arthur, but she refused to cede her dominion. As soon as the boat touched the shore of the island, Morgan returned to her human form. She laid her hands over the gaping wounds, and called the power of the Earth forth to heal him. The others came, lending their power and voice to her cause. Working in perfect harmony, they were able to spare the life of the High King."_

The voice wove the tale, and unbidden Severus was drawn into a dream. It was he who was laid out on the boat, stolen from death's cruel grasp by some strange chance of fate. His mind supplied the image of a witch, with chestnut curls and eyes that a man could drown himself in. Waves of warmth carried him forth, heading to his own personal Avalon. 'Pathetic…you are no king or hero…' he derided himself cruelly, but that sweet, soft voice continued to sooth his hurts.

The next sensation to break through that unrelenting nothingness was touch. Feather-light and fleeting, like a songbird flitting to and fro. Again the imagery of Morgan La Faye prevailed, imbuing his savior with all the power of that great witch. A healer of men, a warrior, and great foil to the all-powerful Merlin. He could feel a hand smooth over his brow, her skin softer than silk. Her voice broke through the silence again, a soft melody wrapping through her words as she wove another tale.

" _And moving through a mirror clear, that hangs before her all the year. Shadows of the world appear, and there she sees the highway near, winding down to Camelot. And sometimes thro' the mirror blue_ , _the knights come riding two and two. She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady Of Shalott."_

Severus felt his heart clench as he listened to the slight falter in that voice, legend and myth hitting too close to his rescuer's own soul. The never-ending grind of loneliness was an ache he knew well, and he could hear its taint in her voice. Pity was not an emotion he often felt, it was demeaning to the suffering of its recipient…but sympathy, that he could give her.

" _But in her web she still delights to weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights a funeral, with plumes and with lights, and music, went to Camelot; Or when the Moon was overhead, came two young lovers lately wed. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady Of Shalott."_

The sorrowful tale continued, weaving through his subconscious and colouring his dreams. He was standing on a riverbank, amongst fields of bearded barley, and gazing out over the wide expanse of a fast flowing river. He could see a lonely tower on a small island, the vague figure of a woman in a window, the details lost to the distance that separated them. The need to reach her was pressing, but the river's current was too swift and promised to pull him under. Following her voice along the riverbank, he discovered a little boat. He took it across the water, eventually reaching the little island. Severus reached the tower, pressing his hands to the door. Light fairly blinded him as he yanked it open, and boldly stepped through.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione nearly stopped breathing as Professor Snape's eyes fluttered open, the song dying on her lips. Nearly a month had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and this was the first movement she'd seen out of him beyond the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Professor Snape?" She hesitantly touched his shoulder.

"What happened?" His normally silky voice was coarse from disuse and the pervasive dryness of his mouth. "Water."

"Of course." In short order, Hermione had him sitting propped up against the pillows, and she held a glass of cool water up to his lips. She took care to prevent him choking on it. "As for what's happened, it's quite a long story, Professor. To be honest, I was starting to think you'd never wake up."

"Morpheus himself would have difficulty sleeping through that horrid caterwauling, Miss Granger," he said, but his remarks lacked their usual bite. "The Dark Lord…was Potter able to stop him?"

Tucking an errant curl behind her ear, Hermione ignored the burning in her cheeks. Surely her singing hadn't been that bad. "He's dead…for good this time. Harry survived, and made sure that your name was cleared. After you gave him your memories in the Shrieking Shack, I stayed behind to try and save you. Professor Slughorn found me, and helped me stop the bleeding. He had a vial of Phoenix tears, and we managed to get it into you. Somehow he knew the truth, and told me that he refused to let Albus destroy another Slytherin on his watch." She shook her head, still somewhat in awe of how greatly she'd misjudged Slughorn's character. He'd been her only point of contact with the outside world since that night, determined to shelter them from the fallout.

"Never underestimate a Slytherin mind, Miss Granger. We have a way of seeing the various motivations at play," Severus said quietly. Sitting on the bedside table was a book of Tennyson's poetry, and he knew that was where she'd plucked the Lady of Shalott from. "I trust I do not need to worry about you emulating more of Elaine of Asolat than her healing?" He asked, curious if she knew the origins of the myth she'd sung so sweetly to him.

"I think I'll manage not to die of a broken heart over you, Professor," she chuckled and stood. "I am no Elaine of Asolat."

"And I am no Lancelot," Severus said in turn.

~Fin~


	43. Delving Deeper

**A/N:** Written for the Monster Bonus Round, in the House Points Competition.

House: Slytherin [Theme: Water]

Chapter: 2

Prompt: Undervalued / Word Count: 1022

o.o.O.o.o

The Slytherin Common Room had been Draco's home away from home for more than seven years now. He knew its intricacies and secrets as well as anyone else, and at this hour it was always empty. Two hours past midnight was his time, when the fire had died low in the hearth and distant lights from the mervillage would send green light filtering across the room through the window that gazed into the Black Lake. Draco's feet led him across the room to sit in a well-worn leather armchair beside the window. The cool leather quickly warmed to his body temperature, its familiar dips cradling his body in a comforting embrace.

The diary he'd discovered by the lake that morning was in his lap, finally having his full attention after a hectic day. Buttery, black leather bound the now dry pages, but no distinctive markings identified its owner. Inside the cover was simply written ' _My Journal'_ , the script delicate and precise, leading him to surmise that it belonged to a female student. Curiosity drove him to flip the page, starting to read.

Minutes melted into hours as Draco was drawn into the tale transcribed within the pages. There were no names, only initials to mark the various people described. Whoever had written in this book had diligently ensured that no one would be able to trace the people described in the pages. The overwhelming theme was one of someone that tried so very hard, but was constantly undervalued and taken for granted by those around her. Her role in the war was hinted at, but she railed against one person she'd named as RBW who had claimed much of the glory for her actions. Even after he'd abandoned her and another person for months. She was hounded by nightmares, memories of things she'd seen and done, but no one wanted to listen or seemed to care. The clear expectation of everyone around this mystery girl was that she carry on as if nothing had happened, and continue to help her friends with their work, forgetting all their various transgressions.

Tear stains on the parchment were traced with his fingertips, sympathy surging through him at the thought of someone else suffering as he did. His own actions during the war haunted him, dogging his steps every single day. As much as others tormented him, they had no idea of the true horrors that swum just behind his eyes. He had seen and done things that made him violently ill, but part of the conditions of his pardon had been to return and complete his education. That damnable piece of paper was the only reason he stayed here and subjected himself to the stares and whispers. Before he realized what he was doing he stood, and tossed the journal onto the seat of the chair, pacing back and forth suddenly unable to sit still.

In an effort to sooth the frustrated energy raging through him, Draco stopped and pressed his forehead to the magically reinforced glass. The smooth surface was cool and he let it wash over him. He was a Slytherin. Unbidden, a memory washed over him and took him back to his second year. Fear and suspicion about the heir of Slytherin had been rampant, and Professor Snape had sat them all down for a House meeting.

" _While you will face fear and hatred outside these walls, remember always that you are a member of the noble house of Slytherin. We are the still waters that run deep, the eternity of the ocean, and the fury of the raging flood. The other houses may attack us, but we absorb their words like pebbles cast into a stream. This has always been our way, from the very first students to sit with Salazar Slytherin in this room, to all of you sitting here with me. We will weather the storm, and emerge ever stronger. Hold to each other, and all will be well."_

Draco opened his eyes and looked into the greenish gloom of the lake. Somehow just remembering those words helped to calm him, their syllables wrapping around his troubled mind like a calming blanket. He returned to his chair and picked up the journal once more. This entry was from only a few weeks ago and something about it drew him in.

 _I don't think this is what love is supposed to feel like. I feel wrung out, worried, and guilty all the time. I know he's having problems from everything that happened last year, but I am too. It's not that easy to just forget that he left us, turned his back, and walked away. He left me, without a backwards glance or regret in his heart, and then returned as if nothing had happened. It's always the same with him, he hurls accusations, doles out blame without a second thought, and then waits a while and continues as if nothing ever happened. Doesn't he understand how much it hurts me? I could have died, been picked up by the Snatchers or worse, and he was off somewhere safe and warm. Sometimes I just want to walk away, but something is holding me here. I love him, but I don't know if I can be with him. I'm so tired of hurting, tired of all of it. I just wish I had someone that understood that, that could love me for who I am…not what they want me to be. He makes me feel small, insignificant, used, undervalued. Why doesn't anyone ever see me?_

It was the shortest entry so far, but Draco could feel the pain and weariness radiating off the page. Something about the script was familiar, the pacing and rhythm of the words reminding him of someone, but his mind wasn't able to connect the pieces. A casually cast 'tempus' revealed the hour to be nearing four o'clock, and he decided that this was a mystery he'd need sleep to puzzle out properly. The mystery witch plagued his dreams for what was left of the night, pleading for his help. If only he could remember her face… 


	44. Everything on the List

**A/N:** Written for the 10th Round of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Shopping / Word Count: 839

o.o.O.o.o

"What's next, mum?" An earnest pair of dark brown eyes looked up from under wild black curls.

"Look at your list, Portia," Hermione reminded her daughter for the hundredth time. In an effort to teach her daughter to be more independent, she was allowing Portia to direct the shopping trip today for her school supplies.

"I still need my wand, my robes should be ready at Madam Malkin's soon, and Dad did promised I could get an owl." Portia's face set into a thoughtful scowl as she looked up and down the alley. "Let's go to Ollivander's first, then pick up my robes and finish at Eyelops?"

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Hermione agreed and walked with her little girl towards the wand shop. The issue of a familiar had been debated hotly since the arrival of her Hogwarts letter. The final decision had been that an owl was simply more practical, and Hermione had conceded the point.

The little bell over the doorway rang out, alerting old Ollivander to their presence. She let Portia walk forwards, allowing her daughter to face this very important moment on her own. There was a shuffle of steps as Garrick Ollivander appeared from behind a precarious looking stack of wand boxes.

"Ah, Miss Nott…I was wondering when I'd be seeing you. It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands. Your mother had a beautiful vinewood and dragon heartstring wand, but of course she favours her new blackthorn wand now." He grinned at Hermione, remembering the full afternoon it had taken to find that new wand for her after the end of the war. "And your father's ebony and phoenix feather wand, truly exceptional for duelling. But, we're not here to reminisce about your parents are we, young Portia?" He chuckled and a flick of his wrist brought a magical tape measure floating over, taking all sorts of bizarre measurements.

Portia giggled as the tape measure tickled a little. "What kind of wand do you think I'll get, Mr. Ollivander?"

"I don't know, the wand chooses the witch after all, but let's try this one first shall we?" He grabbed a box seemingly at random, opening it and offering the pale, honey coloured wand to her. "Beech and unicorn tail hair."

Portia picked it up and frowned, the wand belching black smoke when she flicked it.

"Definitely not…hmmm." Ollivander scurried off. After about six different tries, he came forward with a black wand box. "Perhaps this will be more on the mark."

Portia slipped her hand under the inky, black wand. It was simply carved, with a funny little natural bend in the shaft that felt wonderful in her hand. She could feel the power flowing off of it and into her very bones. She flicked it and silver sparks fluttered through the air around them. "Mum! This one is perfect!"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Well done, darling."

"Ebony and dragon heartstring, eleven inches and quite supple. I sense a gift for duelling or perhaps advanced transfiguration in your future, my dear. That will be seven galleons please," he said, flicking his eyes to Hermione.

"Thank you, Garrick. Will you be joining us for dinner this Saturday?" she asked as she handed him the galleons. There was a dinner planned for surviving members of the Order and their friends, and Ollivander was a long standing attendee to the annual gathering.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Will your husband be joining us this year?" he enquired.

"If I can pry him out of the lab, he's quite close to a breakthrough on his latest project." She smiled fondly. "But I should go, Portia and I have a few more errands to run in the Alley today."

"Goodbye, Mr. Ollivander!" Portia waved as they headed out of the shop. She was fairly bouncing as they stopped to gather her robes from Madam Malkin's, and then they crossed over to Eyelop's Owl Emporium. They were nearly there when Portia let out a shriek of delight and ran forward, getting scooped up in her father's arms.

"Theo…what are you doing here?" Hermione laughed as he playfully twirled their daughter before setting her down.

"I finished up in the lab early." He leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek. "I thought I could surprise my girls, and maybe whisk them off to dinner out tonight?"

"That sounds wonderful, but first I believe you need to help Portia choose her owl." A mischievous smile crossed her lips, knowing just how much Theo detested shopping of any description. It had certainly been his intent to swoop in at the end of the day and miss out on all the various shops, but this one was all his.

Theo looked a bit like he'd bitten into a lemon, but nodded. "Well…this calls for an expert. Come along sweetheart, let's find you the perfect owl." Hand in hand, father and daughter headed into the store to find her the right familiar.

~Fin~


	45. Bloody Gryffindors!

**A/N:** Written for Round 10 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Trouble / Word Count: 1384

o.o.O.o.o

Severus was lying low under quite explicit orders to remain off the radar while the floundering Ministry tried to apprehend him. It wouldn't be long before the Dark Lord's puppet was installed as Minister, and then his reign of terror would begin. The coming days looked bleak, even to man as jaded as he was. He'd taken a flat overlooking Knockturn Alley, over a disreputable pub owned by Enhardt Rosier. He would never sully himself by actually patronizing the disgusting establishment, but Severus was quite certain that no one would betray his presence.

A grime-encrusted window was his only view out into the world, and after nearly three weeks of solitude it had become a welcome distraction from his circumstances. There was something strangely entertaining watching the denizens of this shady place move from shop to ship, adhering strictly to their business in an effort to remain unnoticed. Almost like a muggle ant-farm, he thought uncharitably. As he sipped his tea, his coal-black eyes zeroed in on a cloaked figure. It was a witch of slender build. Her movements were erratic and stood out amongst the purposeful movers in the alley. She was trying just a little too hard to remain unnoticed, and as a result was drawing all kinds of dangerous attention. He picked out the hulking form of McNair stalking the girl. Something about the witch was tickling the back of his mind, and then it clicked. Tossing his teacup onto the sideboard and grabbing his cloak, Severus hurriedly exited the flat and stole down the rickety steps into the dingy alley.

Merlin save him from idiotic, hard-headed, reckless Gryffindors! Perhaps this was some kind of karmic punishment for all the evils he'd committed, doomed forever to save baby lions from the trouble they always seemed to find for themselves. He kept to the shadows, moving parallel to the teenaged witch. He had to avoid not just her notice, but that of McNair, and now Edmund Goyle. The only reason they hadn't yet stunned the girl was that they weren't entirely certain who she was. He palmed the package of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and timed his throw just right. The blackness engulfed the street and Severus darted out, grasping the witch tightly to his chest and dragging her into the next alley. He felt the zing of curses fly past them a second before the bone-crushing sensation of apparition dragged them to safety.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione had been picking her way through Knockturn Alley, knowing just how stupid it was to risk being seen, but also knowing that certain things she needed could only be found there. She'd worn her nicest black robes, the hood pulled down to obscure her face. Many of the other patrons of the alley seemed to employ the same tactic, and she was guardedly hopeful that she could get to the handful of shops she needed to before she drew any unwanted attention. An itch between her shoulder blades alerted her to the wizard following her. She tried to pretend like she didn't notice the large man shadowing her steps, but unbidden her feet sped up.

A furtive look over her shoulder told her that there were now two men following her. Her heart was beating wildly against her ribcage, and she desperately looked around for a place to duck out of the way and apparate. Just as she was about to panic and apparate away in the middle of the street, everything went black. Hands roughly grabbed her arms, keeping her from reaching for her wand and Hermione was hauled into an alcove. Then they were apparating away.

The horrendous crushing sensation released her and Hermione's heart nearly stopped as she looked up into the face of a murderer. She was released so suddenly that she fell to the grass, and gaped up at him. "Professor?"

"Brightest witch of her age indeed…how could you be so utterly careless?" he snarled. "What possessed you to go to Knockturn Alley of all places? There are easier ways to come to the attention of the Death Eaters, Miss Granger, I assure you. Do you even understand just how much trouble you were actually in?" Severus thundered.

Clambering to her feet and brushing the dirt off her robes, Hermione drew her wand…only to have it promptly taken from her. He'd reacted faster than she'd been able to track, and now she was wandless. Bloody brilliant. "Are you going to hand me over to the Dark Lord then?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"You do realize it's customary to thank someone for saving your life, however little you seem to value it," he said drily. "I have no plans to hand you over to anyone, but you'd best start explaining yourself and quickly. I am not a man of infinite patience." The last words were fairly growled as he pocketed her wand.

"I…," she started and then paused, swallowing and trying to gather her wits. "There were things I needed, and I couldn't get them in the main alley. I know what's coming, and I know that I need to make sure that we're prepared." She met his eyes bravely. "I didn't know what else to do."

"We? Of course, Potter. Risking your neck, and other things, for him," he sneered. "If you were half as smart as I know you are, you'd get as far away from that boy as possible. He'll be the end of you." There was a sadness in his tone.

"Someone has to help him, I can't leave him with just Ron for help. I might as well gift-wrap him for V…" She suddenly gagged, a harsh silencing spell striking her with the tiniest flick of Snape's wand.

"Do. Not. Say. It," Severus ground out. "There is a reason people fear speaking his name Miss Granger, and it has nothing to do with cowardice. He used to have a taboo on his name, merely whispering it could bring the Death Eaters down around your ears." He stalked around her, pleased when he saw her pale dramatically. "He would be a fool to not employ the same tactic again, particularly because your foolish friend bandies his name about for sport." He released the spell with a flicking motion.

Hermione massaged her throat, and nodded. "The Headmaster gave him a job to do, and he won't go to anyone else for help. I can't abandon him, I just can't," she said quietly.

Severus nodded and offered her wand back, handle first. "I suggest you look for what you need elsewhere, Miss Granger. They will be on alert in Knockturn Alley now."

"Some of the things I need for my emergency bag aren't exactly…legal. I don't where else to get them." There was a pleading tone in her voice that Hermione wasn't terribly proud of, but she knew that if Professor Snape really was the horrible murderer that everyone seemed to think he was, there was no way he'd have rescued her today.

Cold, calculating eyes watched her for a long moment, studying her expression. "You want my help? After all I've done, you still believe I'm on your side?" he sounded utterly disbelieving.

"If you were the wizard Harry thinks you are, you'd either have left me to those men in the Alley or taken me to You-Know-Who yourself," she whispered. "Every time we've thought the worst about you, we've been wrong. Are we wrong again?"

Severus was utterly dumbfounded. The silence stretched for a long moment, before he finally answered her. "I may not be a good man Miss Granger, but I am not what they think." It was the closest he would ever get to admitting the truth, but in that moment he needed someone in this world to know that he was not a monster, regardless of the trouble that it could cause. That this schoolgirl, not even out of her NEWTS, had puzzled out something not even the Dark Lord had, simply astounded him.

"Will you help me?" she asked again.

"Yes, if only to keep you from seeking out more trouble." He allowed the corner of his mouth to lift, gracing her with the tiniest of smiles. Hope could be fatal in his line of work, but just for today he'd indulge in it.


	46. Forgiveness and Farewells

**A/N:** Written for Round 10 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Goodbye] / Prompt: Christmas / Word Count: 786

**Note About the Order of Merlin: Order of Merlin 1st class is awarded for acts of Outstanding Bravery or Distinction, Order of Merlin 2nd class is awarded for achievement or endeavors beyond the Ordinary.**

o.o.O.o.o

 _ **Be Strong Enough to Let Go**_

 _ **And Patient Enough to Wait**_

 _ **For What You Deserve ~Anonymous**_

o.o.O.o.o

Severus entered the silent cemetery, just a shadow slipping amongst the drifts of snow and marble monuments. The icy wind cut through him, but he ignored it, choosing instead to focus on his destination. Determined to avenge Lily's murder and save her son, Severus had never intended to survive the Final Battle. That he had was something of a minor miracle, one he could attribute to the most insufferable know-it-all he'd ever had the privilege of knowing. Hermione Granger had snatched him from the jaws of death and rallied what felt like the whole world to save him from Azkaban.

A part of his brain was still in shock that he was finally free. Free of Tom Riddle and his endless cruelty, and free of Albus' never ending games. He felt adrift, lost in a sea of possibility. Kingsley was the new interim Minister of Magic, and had awarded him an Order of Merlin for his many sacrifices, first class no less. He'd stood beside Potter and Miss Granger last night to receive their awards. They were the only three to receive the highest honour the wizarding community had to offer. The Weasleys, Minerva, and other combatants from the Battle of Hogwarts had all been awarded the white ribbon that signified a 2nd class Order of Merlin. The distinction had caused some tension between the Golden Trio, but after a review of all the memories and events, Kingsley had decided that Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Severus were the ones that best met the criteria for the award.

He'd escaped the Ministry Christmas Ball just in time to complete his yearly ritual. For the last seventeen years, the early hours of December 25th found him here, on his knees before a white marble monument. Severus reached out and brushed the snow off her name, fingertips tracing the letters with reverence. Each visit to this place had reminded him of his failures, of his mistakes, and how much he missed her. Lily had been the only light in his life for as long as he could remember, the only thing outside of his books and potions that he cared for. While he'd devoted his life to protecting the Potter boy…it had only ever been for her sake. Potter had always looked too much like his father for Severus to ever feel anything for him beyond obligation.

A subtle wave of his hand conjured a spray of vibrant red lilies, her favourites. He knew that this was the last Christmas he would spend here. Moving forward with his life meant finally letting go, and starting to forgive himself. Strangely enough it had been Potter who'd triggered this revelation. After days of testimony by dozens of witches and wizards, Potter had taken the stand in defence of his former Potions Master.

" _This body has already pardoned dozens of Death Eaters who could prove that they were marked under duress, or as under-aged wizards. Severus Snape was marked when he was only sixteen years old, mere days after the tragic murder of his mother. He made a single mistake, and has spent the rest of his life paying for it. He was willing to lay down his life for me, the son of a man who tormented him when they were boys. If there is a greater statement about the integrity of his character, I can't think of it. If you do anything less than grant him a full pardon for all his actions during the war…none of you deserve to be sitting here today. Severus Snape is a hero, and the bravest man I have ever known. He owes nothing to any of us, and he deserves to have the freedom to live a life of his choosing."_

"He may look like his father Lily, but your son is more like you than I ever let myself see," he whispered softly. A light snow was starting to fall around them. "You will always be important to me, but it's time to say goodbye. I prayed so often for forgiveness, something I thought I could never have in this life…but I realize now that it was something I needed to first give myself. You were my first friend, my first love, and the one thing I could never accept losing. I kept my promise: your son is alive and the Dark Lord is well and truly gone. Happy Christmas, Lil." Severus stood and leaned down, pressing a kiss against the cool marble. "Goodbye, my beautiful friend. I will remember you, always."

They say that the hardest thing in life is letting go, but Severus had made a life out of difficult actions. As he passed the gate of the cemetery for the last time, a weight lifted from his shoulders and from his heart. The ghosts of his past finally banished, he disapparated away, intending to spend this Christmas and all the ones to come in the company of the living.

~Fin~


	47. Dangers of Dreamless Sleep

**A/N:** Written for Round 10 of the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short [Prefect Extra Entry] / Prompt: Guilt / Word Count: 1509

o.o.O.o.o

Harry was at a loss, and he didn't know what else to do. The person who had stood beside him through everything, even when all seemed lost, was drowning and he had no idea how to save her. Hermione had stood tall and strong through the war, the trials, and the mad crush of media attention. It was easy to forget that she was dealing with her own demons, because she was always battling everyone else's. But two weeks ago, a letter from the Australian Ministry of Magic had broken her.

The memory charm she had used to save her parents was irreversible. They'd had the very best healers examine them to no avail; their memories were lost forever. In her grief she'd shut herself up in her rooms at Grimmauld Place, hiding behind layers of wards that only Kreacher was able to get past. The elderly elf had developed a strange kind of affection for the muggle-born witch, and saw to it that she ate. What little Kreacher did reveal had Harry nearly frantic to get help.

Swallowing nervously, he knocked firmly on the door of a cottage that had been damn near impossible to find. It was yanked open moments later to reveal Severus Snape, a sour expression on his face.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here Potter?" he sneered. Clearly exoneration, an Order of Merlin, and status as a celebrated war hero had done nothing to improve his surly disposition.

"I need advice and I really didn't know who else to turn to," Harry said quietly.

Severus gave him a long look. "If you're wasting my time with frivolities, I'll cube your liver up for potions ingredients. Come in." The older wizard stepped back, inviting him inside.

"Thank you, sir." Harry ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, trying to think where to start. Snape led him through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Absently he noted just how much wandless magic the man tended to perform, and was suitably impressed. "It's about Hermione. I know she had a problem with Dreamless Sleep back in sixth year, and that you helped her. I think she's having a problem again."

Severus sighed and sat down. "What happened?"

"The summer before the Ministry fell, she obliviated her parents, removed all traces of herself from their memories, and crafted new ones. She convinced them that they wanted to immigrate to Australia, and that they had completely different identities. After the war, she planned to undo it and bring them home," Harry started explaining.

"There is no undoing something so extensive." Severus' voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Not when it comes to muggles."

Harry nodded. "Two weeks ago she got the news that it was permanent, and she just seemed to shut down. At first I just thought she needed some time to work through it, but she just keeps layering wards on her room and she won't come out. My house elf brought me some empty vials he found, and I think they're dreamless sleep. If she's relapsed…it could be really bad, couldn't it?"

Severus swore and stood. "Two weeks Potter! Two whole bloody weeks and you're only just coming to see me now!" he thundered. "She could have overdosed and died a hundred times over by now." He left the room in a flurry of movement, going to his private lab and grabbing a small case with his emergency potions. Bloody foolish girl, how many times had he stressed to her that after a period of addiction this was one potion she could NEVER take again. He grabbed his cloak and hurried back upstairs, looking at the guilt-ridden expression on Potter's face.

"I assume she's at your home?" Disdain dripped off his words. "Wallow later Potter, let us hope that she hasn't done irreparable damage."

Harry stood and nodded, an uneasy feeling pooling in his gut. Together they apparated to Grimmauld Place, and Harry showed him inside.

Severus headed straight for the stairs, mounting them in quick succession. It was unfailingly clear which room was hers, he could feel the tell-tale thrum of her magic radiating from the door. He drew his wand and stroked it down through her wards, ignoring the odd hiss of aggression emanating from them. A steady flow of Latin fell from his lips as he tore her enchantments apart. Her wards were truly elegant, woven together with a deft hand until it was challenging to determine where one ended and another began. It was what made them so strong.

To his credit, Potter remained quiet at his back knowing better than to disturb him. He felt the last ward shudder and fail, and he placed his hand on the doorknob. "No one can know about this, Potter. If it ever got out…her reputation would be utterly destroyed," he warned quietly. "Not a single word to anyone, not even Mr. Weasley."

Harry nodded. "I won't say anything."

Severus nodded and opened the door, and felt his heart stop. She was slumped against the far wall, staring blankly at the fireplace. A quick touch at her throat reassured him that her pulse was steady, if a little weakened. The pupils of her eyes were blown wide, betraying just how much of that potion she'd consumed. It was the truly horrifying reality of Dreamless Sleep addiction: a relapse could trap you in your own mind, never resting but endlessly reliving your worst nightmares. Picking Hermione up carefully, he carried her over to the bed and settled her down, propping her up on the pillows.

"Is she...?" Harry's tone was horrified.

"She's alive, but I'm going to need to go into her mind and drag her back out. It will not be pleasant for either of us. It's not something you should see, Potter," he said. Mentally planning his plan of attack, he went into the ensuite bathroom. He wetted down a face cloth and came back, sitting down beside his former student and carefully laying the cool cloth on her forehead.

"I should stay, you might need help," Harry protested, his eyes locked onto the form of his best friend.

"Get out…she will not want you to see her like this," Severus said firmly. Once Potter withdrew, he removed his outer robes and rolled up his shirtsleeves. This would be a battle. As prepared as he could be, Severus stared deep into her unfocused eyes. "Legillimens!" Instantly, he was drawn into her unprotected mind.

 _Severus' first impressions were of darkness, a swirling chaotic nothingness that seeped into every inch of her mind. He cast a Lumos, using the scant light to navigate the labyrinth laid out before him. Guilt, and self-loathing battered him, allowing him to understand what was holding her there. Time lost all meaning as he went deeper, searching for her mental self. When he finally found Hermione, she was curled into a little ball on a filthy stone floor. Her head was buried against her knees, and her hands pressed tightly over her ears. A cacophony of voice assailed him as he tried to reach her._

" _It's YOUR fault! You ruined our lives!" A woman's voice harped from the darkness._

" _Why would we ever want to remember…our lives are better without you." A man's cut hard._

" _They're dead because of you! If you'd figured everything out faster they would have lived…I trusted you Miss Granger, and you let everyone down." Albus' voice surrounded them, resounding like thunder._

 _Severus knelt and placed his hands over hers. "It's not your fault, none of it." He leaned close, speaking into her ear. He knew how deadly guilt could be, how it could prey on a mind like hers. "You protected your parents because you loved them, they are alive because of your sacrifice. Those that died in the war chose their fates. You should never have been put into that position, you were just a child. Wars should not be fought by children. I would have died a hundred times over to spare you everything that happened. Come back with me Miss Granger, come back," he whispered it constantly to her, trying to drown out the demons in her mind. Slowly he began to withdraw, pulling her with him. Soon they were beyond the voices, moving up through the darkness and back to the light._

Severus nearly collapsed as he returned to his own mind, sweat beading on his skin from the effort it had taken. Instinctively he reached out and checked her pulse; it was stronger now and she was resting comfortably.

"Blessed Circe…watch over her," he whispered softly into the silence of the room. She was out of the worst danger now, but they had a lovely few weeks of detoxing to run through together. Just when he thought he'd gotten his life back and could fade safely into obscurity, something had to come along and drag him right back. This time, perhaps because it was her, he didn't mind as much as he should have.

~fin~


	48. Vinewood & Dragon Heartstring

**Written for Round One (Year Two) of the Houses Competition. Representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Wand [Object] /Word Count: 494**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

The jingle of the bell at the front door alerted Garrick to the presence of a customer. As was his usual manner, he slowly made his way through the organized chaos that was his wand shop. This time however, a curious thing happened. One of the wand boxes in the front stack began shaking, shimmying, and shooting purple sparks out of the seams of its box. He narrowed his pale blue eyes as he rounded the corner, seeing the one who'd elicited such an eager response. There was a young witch standing there, eyes wide as she stared at the box. She had a riot of frizzy brown hair and seemed most ordinary…but the reaction of that wand said differently.

"It appears that wand is most eager to meet you, Miss…?" he said, watching as the child jumped.

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger," she replied politely. "Does that happen often?" Her eyes went back to the box.

"No, in all the years I've been fitting wands, I have only ever seen such a response once," he told her, going around the desk and teasing the wand out of the stack, a touch of wandless magic keeping the precarious pile from toppling. He opened it and offered the box to the girl, watching the reaction of her magic play against the wand as she picked it up. Such a volatile combination, and yet when it interacted with the child's magic it meshed just beautifully. He smiled as the girl flicked it in the air and purple sparks fluttered down around her.

"Yes…I do believe that is the perfect wand for you, Miss Granger." He smiled. "Vinewood, 10 ¾ inches long, with a core of Dragon heartstring. Vinewood wands are usually hard to match, and tend to choose those with hidden depths and strength of conviction. It is never a wand for the faint of heart, or weak of will…nor would it ever choose such a person. When paired with the heartstrings of a particularly nasty Hebridean Black, it makes for a warrior's wand. Make certain to choose your battles wisely, Miss Granger. No matter where your choices take you, this wand will serve you well." He paused for a moment as the child met his eyes, seeming to take his words to heart.

It was his gift, the ability to see possible futures at the moment a child lifted their first wand. It was both a gift and at times a curse…to see so much potential that often went unrealized. He lived for the day when a wand he had created would realize its full promise in the hands of the right witch or wizard. He had come close only once, so very close.

"That will be seven galleons please," he said, the moment passing like a cloud across the face of the moon. The child handed over the coins and left the shop, chatting animatedly with her chaperone as they headed back into the Alley.

~Fin~


	49. Burn the World Down

**Written for the Houses Competition, Representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Friendship] / Prompt: [Speech] "He/She/They was unconscious when I found him/her/them." / Word Count: 2345**

 **A/N: This story takes place shortly after Tom Riddle graduates from Hogwarts, somewhere between 1946-1948, and is mostly canon compliant. Memories are denoted by italics.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

"My Lord! We found him." Hadrian Nott said as he entered the darkened sitting room where their Lord had been waiting. He was gasping, having run from the other end of the House where they'd placed Abraxas in his room. "He was unconscious when I found him. Rosier's gone for a Healer, and Avery's done all he can to stabilize him," he reported.

Tom's dark eyes narrowed and he strode past Nott's shaking form, his magic making the air crackle around him fueled by his rage. It had been a simple errand, there should have been no risk to Abraxas or he'd have simply sent Rosier and Avery. A foreign feeling was stirring in his chest, and he was stunned to realize that it was…worry. That epiphany actually caused him to come to a dead stop outside Abraxas' chambers. He didn't feel foolish things like worry and affection for his people, and yet there was that sickening twist in his stomach thinking about Abraxas lying in the next room injured, possibly dying. He clenched his jaw and entered the room, seeing Avery hovering over the unnaturally pale form of the young Lord of Malfoy Manor. That sickening twist jabbed sharply in his gut again as he approached the bed.

"Report," he snapped, channeling the confusing feelings into the familiar burn of rage.

"We met with the contact, but…we were ambushed. When Malfoy was hit, I grabbed him and apparated but…he's in a bad way. I did what I could to stop the bleeding but I'm no Healer, my Lord," Avery said quietly.

"Get out, and don't come back without the Healer," he said, feeling his rage start to cool, transforming into an icy pool of potential violence. "And Avery…if he dies, we'll be burying two brothers tomorrow." He looked over at him with cold pitiless eyes. "I want names, and I want to know who was behind it. Go." He did love the familiar rush as he watched fear blossom over the face of his follower. The rush died a quick death as Avery fled the room and shut the door behind him.

Tom looked down at Abraxas' face, slack with unconsciousness. He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching out and feeling for the flutter of a pulse under the fragile skin of the other man's throat. The steady beat under his fingertips eased some of the tension in his gut, but it didn't erase it. Of all the men that he had gathered around himself, Abraxas was the one he would lament losing the most. He'd been his very first ally in Slytherin House, an older student who had been intrigued by his easy mastery of the nastier forms of magic. Waiting for the Healer, it was all too easy to fall into the memory.

 _~November, 1938~_

" _I saw what you did." The lanky third year student came and sat on the couch beside the little first year._

" _I didn't do anything." Tom narrowed his eyes at the older boy. He'd been certain no one had seen him cast that hex._

" _Of course you didn't." His lips quirked into a smirk. "No first year could have pulled off a hex like that. I must have been mistaken." His tone indicated that he clearly believed that Riddle had cursed those two second year students. Malfoy furthered that impression by giving the boy a not-so-subtle wink._

" _You're not going to tell Slughorn?" Tom gave him an appraising look. No one did favours without an ulterior motive, and he didn't trust what the older boy might want from him._

" _Why would I? They deserved what they got. It's clear to me you're no mudblood, I'd stake my entire fortune on it," he said with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "Where'd you learn that hex anyway?"_

" _You can find all sorts of things in the right book." Tom said, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. The restricted section in particular had all sorts of interesting books. He'd discovered quite by accident that his ability to speak to snakes had practical applications around the school, particularly on the bookcases with carved serpents on them. Those he could disarm simply by asking them nicely, others took more work…trial and error. The librarian, Madam Cole, had been trying for weeks to figure out just who was sneaking into the restricted section, but he had yet to be caught._

" _You certainly can." Abraxas said, his silvery gaze measuring the younger boy. After a long moment he offered his hand to Tom. "I think we could be helpful to one another, Riddle."_

 _Tom reached out, and shook the other boy's hand, very aware that they were being observed from various points around the Common Room. Malfoy had influence and standing, even with the older years…an alliance with him would be very beneficial. He wasn't entirely sure what Malfoy was looking to get out of it yet, but he'd soon suss it out. "I agree."_

His first year at Hogwarts had been a challenging one. It had been a difficult transition from the harsh world of the muggle orphanage where he'd spent his entire life, to sharing a room with five privileged pure-bloods who had instantly singled him out as 'different'. He'd had to find ways to show them that he was not a 'mudblood', and prove that he was clearly from magical ancestry. The alliance with Abraxas had helped put those whispers to an end, since there was no way a Malfoy would consort with a common mudblood.

He'd come to categorize most of his classmates into those that would be useful to him, those that were unimportant, and those that were a possible threat. Abraxas however had always existed outside of those narrow definitions; he was special. In a world full of useless creatures, that one wizard stood out. He'd taken Tom under his wing, taught him the finer manners that were expected in the highest levels of pureblood society. Malfoy had shown him how important charm was in the little games that everyone played in the Slytherin dungeons. Under the subtle mentorship of the older boy, Tom soon garnered powerful advocates in Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet. The old Headmaster had been completely fooled by his guileless smiles and tragic story, or at least enough to protect him from the petty punishments that the Head of Gryffindor so often tried to assign him.

Dumbledore had been a problem for him from the very first day they had met. He'd foolishly allowed the man to get a glimpse of his real self in an effort to impress the wizard, to prove that he was exceptional. Right now he couldn't shake the feeling that the old man was somehow behind the attack on Abraxas. As if roused by his thoughts, Abraxas groaned and his eyelids fluttered. Unbidden Tom found himself reaching down and taking his hand.

"'Brax?" he said, hating the vulnerability in his tone.

"Careful, I'll start to think you actually care about me," came the lazy reply, the effect somewhat ruined by the clear pain lacing through his tone.

"Hardly, you'd simply be extremely inconvenient to replace," Tom said, squeezing his hand slightly in complete opposition to his blasé words.

"Well, I would hate to inconvenience you." The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

"Did you recognize your attackers?" he asked, intense eyes boring into his.

Abraxas tried to shake his head and then he froze, sucking in a harsh breath. "I didn't get a good look. The scroll you sent me for, it's in my right robe pocket. I managed to keep hold of it when I went down," he said.

"Hang the bloody scroll," Tom growled, a little shocked at his own words. "Where is that blasted Healer?" He let go of Abraxas' hand and began to pace.

"I have no plan to die on you today, Tom," he said quietly. "Would you think less of me, if I asked you to just sit with me for a while?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

"Never," Tom replied and returned to the man's side and took his hand again. "Do you remember that night you sat with me?" He asked. It had been after he had murdered his bastard muggle father, framing his deranged uncle for it all. He'd been disgusted with the truth of his heritage, and gone to the one person he knew valued him. It was the first time he'd ever let anyone see him cry, and to this day he despised himself for that show of weakness.

Abraxas gave the slightest of nods. "You're my friend, of course I stayed with you."

"You know I don't have friends," Tom said reproachfully, the denial sitting strangely in his gut again.

"That's never mattered to me. I consider you mine and that is enough," Abraxas said simply. "Would you miss me, if I was gone one day?"

"Don't speak like that. You're not dying, remember?" Tom said.

"You're evading."

" _ **Yes**_." He bit out, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Of course I would miss you." Here in the darkened room, alone with Abraxas, he could admit that much. "In all the world, you're the only person I would miss. You're the only other person that feels _**real**_ to me." When Abraxas just squeezed his hand in response, he felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. Just then Tom heard the door opening, and he instantly released Malfoy's hand, standing and moving aside so the Healer could attend to his wounded friend. In his thoughts, the forbidden word felt somehow right when associated with Abraxas.

The Healer worked diligently for nearly an hour, before packing away their kit and rearranging the sheets over Abraxas' body.

"Well?" Tom's cool, imperious voice cut through the heavy silence. Despite his youth, whenever he used that tone people never failed to snap to attention.

"He will make a full recovery, but he will need to rest for the next few days. I've left some replenishing potions, and he needs to take one every twelve hours for the next three days," the Healer said respectfully. "He suffered a fair bit of blood loss, and whatever curse hit him seemed to almost leech away his magical energy bringing him to near exhaustion. He's very lucky he got help when he did."

"Thank you, I will summon you if you are required again," he dismissed him and let go of the breath he'd been holding since he'd first learned Abraxas had been injured. He'd always viewed people's inexplicable friendships with disdain, a weakness they were practically begging to be exploited. He wasn't certain that he actually liked the idea of this particular weakness afflicting him, but he would need to think on it.

A quick look at the bed confirmed that Abraxas was sleeping peacefully. Later he would tell himself that he'd simply remained at his side that night to monitor him for complications from the unknown curse. Whatever the real reason, he couldn't abide the thought of leaving him alone.

o.o.O.o.o

It was nearly four days before Abraxas felt well enough to dress and leave the privacy of his rooms. He had seen neither hide, nor hair of Tom since that first night, and he was concerned. His instincts led him to the Library, finding Tom in his favourite chair and scowling over an old tome. It was a scene quite familiar to the young Lord, and reassuring in its normalcy. If Tom was reading about abstract magical theory, nothing could be too wrong.

"So, finally decided to stop lounging in bed I see," Tom drawled without looking up from his book.

"Well, I thought I should make sure you hadn't slaughtered all of our associates in my absence." Abraxas chuckled and sauntered over to sit in the other comfortable chair. He let himself take a moment to really look at his friend, seeing shadows under his eyes. The younger wizard was holding himself tightly, tension clear in the lines of his neck and shoulders. "You haven't been sleeping," he said simply.

Tom closed the book and set it aside. "I'm…troubled," he admitted.

"You worry your attachment to me is a weakness." He'd always understood Tom better than most, mostly because they were so eerily alike. He knew his friend's childhood had been horrific before coming to Hogwarts, not that he would have ever admitted it to Abraxas…but he didn't need to. He could count on one hand the number of times that Tom had initiated physical contact with him, and was always supremely uncomfortable when anyone tried to touch him. Only Abraxas had permission to be inside his personal space, and it spoke of a level of trust between them. A trust he valued.

"Attachment _**is**_ weakness. I exploit it in others all the time," he said and stood, starting to pace in front of the fire in a sudden explosion of movement. "But when I saw you lying there, I was afraid of losing you." He stopped and looked over at him. The confusion he felt was evident in his eyes, and painted across his normally composed expression.

Abraxas stood, walking over and offering his hand again. "Mutual attachment, friendship, is not a weakness…not between us," he said, giving Tom full eye contact. He could feel the other man searching through his surface thoughts and emotions, and he allowed it. "Most people see friendship as a casual thing, pretty words and soft feelings. For us it's different, deeper. You wouldn't die for me, but you would burn the whole world to ash to avenge me…and you know I'd do the same for you. Our friendship is only dangerous to those that would threaten it."

Tom was quiet for a long time and then he took Abraxas' hand. "If someone hurt you, I wouldn't burn the world down, Abraxas. I'd tear it into bloody, screaming pieces," he said, his gaze steady and unblinking.

Abraxas believed him. Believed every single, terrifying, beautiful word.

~Fin~


	50. Washed Away

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Rainstorm [Weather] / Word Count: 763**

 **Set after Tom Riddle's first year at Hogwarts. While the London Blitz did not begin officially until 1940, preparations for air raids began as early as 1937, with mandatory blackouts beginning in 1938.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Tom's eyes tracked the raindrops as they trailed down the windows of the Hogwarts Express. The weather seemed to mirror his mood. The last time he'd been on this train, he had been full of excitement, anticipation, and relief; now, all he felt was emptiness. He was being sent back to the Orphanage, back into the heart of London where the threat of war was looming. No amount of pleading had softened the stance of the Deputy Headmaster, who'd offered only platitudes that he was sure he'd be perfectly safe, and it was only for a couple of months. And as Professor Slughorn had reminded him, housing decisions were handled strictly by the Deputy Headmaster, and there was no way to appeal his decision.

Tom had ruthlessly strangled his anger at the man, and told Slughorn that he understood. Even before he'd departed for Hogwarts, there were mandatory blackouts in the city at night and air raid drills every week at the orphanage. There had even been talk about evacuating the children to the countryside, and now that Tom knew about Hogwarts, he lived in fear that he'd be one of those sent away and prevented from going back to school next year.

He'd purposefully chosen an empty car, and his stormy glare had sent everyone else walking past. Only the repetitive clanking of the wheels on the tracks and beat of the rain on the window kept him company on what felt like his journey back to serve a prison sentence. He knew exactly what was waiting for him back at Wool's. There were no House Elves to clean the floors and make the beds, no plates of good food overflowing with sumptuous sweets. There was only the hope of safely returning to his real home in September to keep him from drowning in the darkness he could literally feel wrapping around him.

The rain soaked countryside passed by, a landscape painted in deep greens and browns. Slowly towns started dotting the picture, but the rain continued, growing heavier as they drew closer to London. He knew it would be a downpour there, and he wasn't even certain that there would be anyone there to pick him up. He frowned deeply, furious at the entire situation. Stupid Dumbledore, sending him back to the hell he'd found him in. He'd SEEN the wretched place, and he would have needed to be utterly blind to miss the nasty bruises on his legs. How could he send him back? He drove his hand into the wall of the compartment, trying to vent some of his anger.

No. Control. He sucked in a deep breath and focused on the steady sound of the rain, using it to send all that anger and frustration down deep into the well where it lived. When he lost control his magic did…regrettable things, things that no one here could know about. A dark smile crossed his lips, thinking about that bastard Dennis Bishop and sweet little Amy Benson. They knew all about the _regrettable_ things that happened when he lost his temper. That day at the seaside he'd been pushed too far, and he'd let the leash on his 'special talent' slip. Neither one of those two could even meet his eyes anymore.

By the time the train had pulled into King's Cross, the rain was indeed falling in sheets. He started reluctantly disembarking with the other students, one of the Prefects helping him lift the trunk onto a trolley. He passed through the barrier, and into the main station. Keeping his head down, he headed for the entrance and saw one of the more severe Matrons waiting there for him.

"Back then are you, hurry along Riddle." The woman frowned at him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gripping it extremely tightly. They headed out into the pounding rain and headed for the orphanage's car. The Matron had an umbrella, but Tom was left to the mercies of the storm. He was soaked through by the time he'd managed to get his school trunk into the boot, and been clipped twice around the head for taking too long .

He sat quietly in the back seat, his charming and engaging Hogwarts persona washed away in the furious summer rainstorm. In its absence, a colder and harder Tom Riddle was left sitting quietly in the back seat of the car. One day he wouldn't be at the mercy of others. One day the world would be at _his_ mercy, and he'd make everyone pay dearly for all he'd suffered.

~fin~


	51. The Secrets We Share

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [HoH Extra Entry] / Prompt: Gretna Green [Location] /Word Count: 2526**

 **Takes Place 7 years after Deathly Hallows.**

 **Translation:** _ **Zvyozdochka – little star**_

o.o.O.o.o

"I still don't understand why you didn't ask your friends to come with you… it seems like something they would want to be here for," Luna said softly as she pinned a few more of Hermione's curls up. She'd been flattered when Hermione had asked her to come with her to Gretna Green, as her witness for her elopement. They'd taken a room at the Smith's Inn, and spent the night talking about their lives and plans for the future.

"You **are** my friend Luna… and you know they wouldn't understand," Hermione sighed. She hadn't even told Ron and Harry that she was engaged, knowing how they were going to react. When she'd sat down and thought about who she really wanted here as her witness, Luna had been the first name to come to mind.

"It's ok you know, you don't need to pretend. I'm happy to be here, even if I'm not your friend," Luna said dreamily. "Boys have a hard time understanding change, I find. It's why you've had such a hard time since the end of the war. You changed, and they haven't yet."

"You _are_ my friend Luna," Hermione said again, hating that Luna always counted herself apart from everyone else. "The war changed all of us, I just don't see the point in pretending that I'm still the same." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to put her finger on when it had all started changing for her. It would be easy to say that it had been the night Dumbledore had died, but she knew deep inside it had started much earlier.

"You've always been ahead of them– I suppose it comes from being nearly a year older." Luna smiled and started weaving little flowers into Hermione's curls. "You were different after the department of Mysteries though. None of the others wanted to see it, but I did. Harry was too angry, and Ron's never been good at seeing anything but what's in front of him."

Hermione nodded, startled by Luna's easy reading of her thoughts. "Are you sure you aren't a secret Legillimens?" She arched an eyebrow.

Luna laughed at the old joke between them. "No, just observant…though it would be helpful to be able to see into people's thoughts, I'd always know the right thing to say then." The ethereal blonde witch grinned.

Hermione nodded. "Merlin knows I feel like I'm always saying the wrong thing."

"Would you mind if I asked when things changed between you two? You've always been so private about things, and I do hate to pry…but I always wondered how it first started," Luna asked and finished with the flowers.

"I think it started changing during the battle of Hogwarts," she said, smiling as Luna pulled a chair over to listen. They had another two hours before the ceremony, and Luna seemed to sense that Hermione needed to focus on something to keep from having a panic attack and fleeing her own wedding.

 _The whole world had exploded into chaos the second Harry had 'risen from the dead' and started dueling Voldemort. Some Death Eaters fled in the face of Harry's apparent immortality, while others seemed determined to do as much damage as they could before the inevitable end. Hermione had been separated from her friends, running and darting around the debris in the courtyard, caught in a duel with Walden McNair. The big Death Eater moved much faster than his bulky frame would indicate, and Hermione knew she was running on empty. He hit the wall beside her with a blasting curse and a chunk of stone caught her head._

 _Her vision had been swallowed by black spots, as she felt him viciously stomp on her wrist, the bones cracking under his boot. She screamed as her wand rolled out of her now useless hand. She felt his hand wrapping around her throat and then he was blasted off of her. She rolled to her side, scrambling for the wand she'd taken from Bellatrix, her fingertips brushing it when it was suddenly gone._

" _Let's get you out of here_ , _zvyozdochka." The voice was rough, but kind. Strong arms scooped her up and she was vaguely aware of the strange sensation of a Disillusionment charm being cast over her as her rescuer moved through the battle, taking her into the castle and up to the Hospital Wing. He laid her down on a bed near the very back of the room, pulling the curtains around._

 _Hermione opened her eyes and felt her blood go ice-cold as she was suddenly looking into the dark eyes of Antonin Dolohov. "Why?" she asked as he tucked her stolen wand into her jacket pocket._

" _You spared my life once, consider the debt paid." He nodded simply and slipped a few vials out of his robes. "It's a pain relieving potion, drink it." He offered one of the vials to her._

 _Hermione gave him a dubious look but uncorked the vial and sniffed it, the familiar smell of a concentrated pain-relief potion hitting her nose. She swallowed it down obediently and managed not to scream as he healed her broken wrist._

" _You're a resilient little thing, but you're no good to anyone dead. Stay here, let the Healer tend to your wounds," he said, stepping back. "It was interesting to know you, Hermione Granger." He cast another disillusionment charm on himself and slipped away._

 _Hermione meant to call out for help, but a sudden wave of artificial drowsiness hit her hard and she realized he had laced the healing draught with a sleeping potion. Russian bastard._

Luna smiled dreamily. "It's quite romantic you know, keeping you safe in the middle of all that destruction and death. Carrying you away and healing your wounds."

Hermione snorted. "He drugged me, it was hardly Prince Charming fighting a dragon to protect a damsel in distress."

"If there had been a dragon, I think he might have fought it for you," Luna considered, her head falling to the side as if thinking about something important. "McNair was almost as big as a juvenile welsh green, or perhaps a yearling Crumple-horned Snorkack."

Hermione couldn't help it, she started laughing and was again eternally grateful she'd brought Luna with her today.

o.o.O.o.o

"She's going to change her mind." Antonin paced in the hotel room, under the bemused gaze of his best friend. When Hermione had suggested coming here, he'd been dismissive at first. He'd envisioned a proper magical ceremony, but then she'd reminded him that magical ceremonies needed to be presided over by a Ministry Clerk…which meant their wedding date and location would be leaked to the media in a heartbeat. She wanted something small, private, and they could simply submit the muggle Marriage license to the Ministry later for validation.

"If she hasn't run screaming into the night yet Antonin, I think you're in the clear." Thorfinn's lips quirked into a smirk. Everything about Antonin's relationship with the petite little firebrand had defied rational explanation since it had started.

"What the hell am I doing 'Finn?" He sat down and let his head fall forward into his hands. He felt his friend come over and sit beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Marrying the witch you're absolutely crazy about, emphasis on the crazy," he said, unable to help the bit of teasing. "You love her, and for some strange reason…she seems to love you. I don't know about you Antonin, but those kinds of miracles don't happen every day, and if you worry too much about the why you're probably going to miss out on the best thing that's ever happened to you."

"I do love her Finn," he said, throat tight with emotion. He'd never felt like this about a woman…not in his entire life. Sure there had been attractions and dalliances before…but Hermione was like an incendio under his skin. He couldn't stop thinking about her, wanting her, and, dare he say, needing her. "I just…if I was a better man, I'd let her find someone that's more deserving of her."

"No one ever said you were a good man Antonin, but for some reason she doesn't really seem to give two shits about that," Thorfinn said. "You never did tell me how you managed to get her to agree to see you after we were paroled."

Antonin's lips quirked a little. "She broke my nose." He remembered the entire incident like it had been yesterday.

 _Free. It was still a strange concept to him. The little wizard from the Ministry had explained it all of course, something about penal code reforms and rehabilitation protocols, but the simple fact that he was basically free was something too strange to really wrap his head around. He could walk out in the open on the streets, he was allowed to use magic, and was currently readjusting to normal life again. His assets had been unfrozen, so at least he had somewhere to live without having to worry about getting a job straight away._

 _There were conditions, of course, and violating any of them would remand him straight back to Azkaban, but none of them were unreasonable considering his crimes. For the next five years he would be monitored by a version of the Trace, and had to refrain from casting anything on the restricted spells list. He'd been rather shocked to discover that Hermione Granger had been the author of these rehabilitation protocols. A girl he'd nearly killed was the reason for his newfound freedom. A very odd situation, no matter what angle you looked at it from._

 _He finished paying for his order at the Apothecary, and was walking along the front of the shops when a door suddenly swung open without warning, and a sickening crunch and blinding pain told him his nose was certainly broken. "MERLIN'S BALLS!" he'd thundered, packages falling to ground as he held his face._

" _Oh god! I'm so sorry!" a strangely familiar voice shouted. "Please, let me see…I can fix that right up." Slender hands covered his, trying to pull them away from his nose._

" _Really, you've done…"_

" _Episkey!" she said, succeeding in pulling his hands out of the way._

" _Nimue's tits, woman!" he'd growled and then glared at the all too familiar form of Hermione Granger, the-witch-that-lived-to-torment-him. He watched with some satisfaction as her eyes widened with equal recognition._

" _Mr. Dolohov. I really am very sorry. I should have been paying more attention, I was just…" she prattled on and stopped only when he lifted his hand._

" _It's quite alright, Miss Granger. However, since you seem so very upset, I insist you join me for lunch, so that it's clear there are no hard feelings." He grinned, a flick of his wand vanishing the blood from his face and robes. "That is, if you truly wish to apologize for your appalling disregard for the safety of the general public." His dark eyes danced with amusement at her very apparent discomfort._

" _I suppose…" She bit her bottom lip._

" _It's just lunch, I think your reputation can survive that much." He winked at her playfully as he gathered up his fallen parcels, glad he'd cast unbreakable charms on them before leaving the store._

"Smooth Antonin, very very smooth." Thorfinn shook his head in disbelief. "So let's take a tally shall we? You've cursed her, attacked her on two separate occasions, drugged her, and blackmailed her into a lunch date. In return she's Obliviated you, which nearly got you killed by the Dark Lord, broke your nose, and….there's something else isn't there?" He frowned trying to remember.

"That time she nearly poisoned me, don't forget that." Antonin was smirked now, recollecting all the many adventures in his four year relationship with Hermione.

"Nearly my ass, you almost died Antonin!" Thorfinn gave him a look.

"To be fair, she was in the hospital bed next to me after that incident. I'm really glad we instituted a rule about no potions experimentation in the basement lab." He chuckled. "It was partly my fault for…distracting her while she was working."

"I didn't want to know then, and I still don't." He waved off Antonin's tendency to overshare. "Over your miniscule bout of cold feet?"

"Yeah…help me with this bloody tie?" He stood and took a breath, going to the mirror and straightening the smart muggle suit. His best friend came over and effortlessly did the tie up in a fancy trinity knot, something he'd never have been able to pull off in a hundred years. Rowle had always been a little bit fancier than him, looking for ways to impress his rather staggering number of 'lady friends'.

"There we go," Thorfinn said with a smile as he gave him a solid clap on the shoulder. "You're as ready as you're going to get.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione walked with Luna towards the old Blacksmith's Shop, the original building where runaway couples had been getting married since the 1700's. While they could have had a civil ceremony anywhere in Britain to suit their needs, something about the tradition of running away to this little Scottish village had appealed to Hermione's whimsical side. She rarely indulged it, but for her wedding she'd wanted something that made absolutely no sense at all. Luna was the only person who even knew she was seeing the reformed Death Eater, and she knew that it probably said something about her own misgivings that she'd hidden it from so many people. The simple fact was that she loved the wizard, faults and all, and she didn't want to share something that special with anyone that might try and change her mind. Of all her friends, Luna was the only person that she knew would support her, no matter what.

"I can't think of a better place for your wedding, it's quite a pretty place, and the ground just sings with good wishes." Luna smiled at Hermione, squeezing her hand as they reached the door.

Hermione froze with her hand on the handle and looked to Luna, eyes wide with a moment of panic. "Am I doing the right thing Luna? What if I'm just being stupid? What if he's not the person I'm supposed to be with?" she asked, standing there in her simple white wedding dress, clutching a little bouquet of white heather and calla lillies.

Luna reached out and took Hermione's hands between hers, looking into her eyes. "My mother once said to me, 'the heart knows when its search is over'. I think if we listened more to our hearts instead of our heads, we'd worry less."

Hermione pulled Luna into a tight hug, letting that little simple bit of advice still the whirling thoughts in her brain. "Thank you."

"What are friends for?" Luna smiled gently and pulled back. "Now we really should go in, before your groom starts to listen to his head too."

Hermione moved back and nodded, walking into the old blacksmith's forge, where Antonin was waiting. She met his eyes and all the worries and what if's faded into the background.

Luna was right, her heart knew.


	52. Together

**A/N: Written for Round Two of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Siblings / Word Count: 459**

 **A/N2: Original characters, AU after the Final Battle. Set approx. 18 years after Deathly Hallows, and for my regular readers you can consider this part of my 'What Worth A Life Universe'.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

" _Take care of your sister."_

Lysander Lucius Malfoy could hear his father's voice in his head as he sat at the Slytherin table, watching his younger sister walk towards the stool for her Sorting. Her wild blonde curls were bouncing as she hopped up onto the stool and the hat dropped down over her eyes. He hoped desperately that she'd end up in his House, so he could protect her the way he knew father wanted him to. Ever since the second wizarding war, being a Malfoy had been a _difficult_ thing. Their mother might have been a war heroine, but in the eyes of many she'd betrayed her own side by marrying his father. He'd gotten into more than one fight over the last five years in defence of her name. He didn't want Celia to have to face the prejudice alone like he had.

Lysander's anxiety grew the longer the Sorting Hat took, with people all around the Great Hall starting to mutter about a Hatstall. Some of his friends looked to him questioningly, since it was almost a foregone conclusion that the latest Malfoy would of course be in Slytherin…they were never sorted anywhere else.

"Well, better be Slytherin!" The Hat finally pronounced, and Professor Sinestra lifted it up off the girl's head.

Lysander couldn't help but laugh as his little sister gave the Sorting Hat the most indignant look imaginable, a look they had both seen on their mother's face more than once, and usually after a drawn out debate with father. He met her eyes and smiled as she came to sit down, a rare show of warmth.

"Finally decided to join us?" he drawled.

"Stupid hat," she muttered.

"I'm sure you set it straight." His grey eyes glittered with amusement as he met his sister's glowering glare.

"Naturally," she sniffed, the very image of a pureblood princess, almost daring anyone to comment on her blood status.

Lysander felt some tension inside him ease, deeply grateful that he'd have good news to send home to their parents. The first half-bloods in the history of the Malfoy family would stay together, and by the time he left school he'd be certain his sister had a network to draw on. They had to look out for one another, because no one else would do it for them.

' _Family is everything, Lysander. Blood binds us together, and it is the only thing you can truly trust in this world. Friendships can fade, alliances can falter, but family is forever.'_

Seeing Celia sitting there, chatting away with the other new Slytherin first-years, Lysander felt a great deal of pride. They'd show everyone that the Malfoys were still a family to be reckoned with, and they'd do it together.

~Fin~


	53. For You I Can Be Brave

**A/N: Written for Round 2 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Brave / Word Count: 1115**

 **Takes place the night of the Third Task, after Dumbledore sends Severus back to Voldemort.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 **Being Brave means to know that something is scary,**

 **difficult, and dangerous and doing it anyway.**

 **Because the possibility of winning the fight**

 **is worth the chance of losing it.**

 **-Emilie Autumn**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Severus opened the black trunk at the back of his closet with trepidation. Merlin, how he had prayed that the contents protected within would never again see the light of day, and remain relegated to his darkest dreams. He cast the complicated unlocking charm, and the brass latch opened with a reluctant sigh. Sitting on the top of a pile of black fabric was a bone-white mask, and it took everything inside him to reach out and pick it up. The searing pain in his left forearm was nothing to the knowledge of what this mask represented, and what taking it up again would mean. The tattered remnants of his soul would not survive this time, he knew that. He'd barely emerged from the last war with some semblance of self; this second wave would finish him.

The realization was meaningless. He would do what he had to; there was no other choice. He would not run like the coward Karkaroff. Severus Snape was many things, but he had never been a coward. Albus had known all too well that he was likely sending him to his death tonight, and he hoped at least some small part of the old Headmaster felt guilt over that, but he doubted it. They all had their parts to play in the coming days. Severus pulled on the achingly familiar billowing robes of his Death Eater days, and slipped the mask into his pocket. He fastened his potion's case to the inner pocket, and gathered his very best occlumency shields around his mind as he slipped through the dungeons like a ghost.

He had not come when called, and there was always a price to be paid for that. Facing the Dark Lord after so long would be terrifying, and, if he were honest, a little exhilarating. He had mouldered away in the dungeons of Hogwarts for so long, devoid of challenges in his life, his superior skills and mind left underappreciated and unused. This would be the ultimate test of his abilities: to lie to the greatest Legilimens the world had ever known. Albus might consider himself on par with the Dark Lord, but Severus had been subjected to the skills of both men and in his experience there was simply no comparison. While the Headmaster employed more stealth in his approach to the mental arts, the Dark Lord's pure ability meant that he rarely needed to concern himself with subtlety. Lying to Albus was child's play compared to what awaited him at the other end of this punishing call.

Like a piece of living shadow, Severus slipped out of a secret passage from the dungeons to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His feet found the edge of the Castle's wards with ease, and settling the mask over his face, he answered his Master's call. He fell to his knees instantly and bowed his head low, the image of a contrite and repentant supplicant. It took every ounce of his nerve to remain so vulnerable before a man who had every reason to kill him. His supposed defection to the Light was a matter of public record, as he had remained faithfully at Dumbledore's side all these years. No, death was the best outcome he could hope for. It was far more likely he'd die a long, agonizing death as a lesson to the others. There was only the smallest chance he would leave this place alive, and it did no good to think about it.

"Ah…Severus, I had hoped you would not entertain the folly of running." The smooth voice of Lord Voldemort curled through the night, soft as silk and deadly as poison.

"I have never been a fool, my Lord." Severus responded, keeping perfectly still.

"Only a fool would have betrayed me, and been so open about it. CRUCIO!"

The curse struck him, and Severus collapsed to the ground with pain searing into his very bones. He remained mostly silent, but finally a scream of agony clawed its way past his lips and then just as suddenly as it had begun, the curse ended. Severus laid there, gasping in pain for a long moment before shakily hauling himself back up onto his knees. "I never betrayed you, my Lord. I remain your loyal servant. I stayed close to your enemy, convinced him I was his, and learned his secrets. I did this for you, only for you, Master," he said, forcing the words out and trying to keep the tremble of fear from his tone. Fear had no place here, it would only get him killed faster.

"But can I believe you? So many years have passed Severus…how can I be certain?" Voldemort approached and fisted a hand in Severus' hair, pulling his neck back awkwardly, tearing away his mask and sending it spinning into the dark.

"You know my heart my Lord. You've always known," Severus said, black eyes meeting crimson. "My bones are stained black, and I have no love for the doddering old fool nor his ideals. Kill me if you must, but know that I have always been your loyal servant and always will be." He put every ounce of conviction he had into those words, stripping his soul bare to the monster that had claim on it.

The mental attack came without hesitation, tearing into his mind like a thousand serrated knives. Severus knew better than to resist, and allowed the man to see everything he needed to. His hate for James Potter's son, the fury at being forced to remain at Hogwarts by the Headmaster to teach little fools year after mind-numbing year, and the longing in his soul for the darkness that he'd been denied access to for so long. None of these things were a lie, but neither were they the whole truth. The Dark Lord lingered over the fate of Barty Crouch Jr for a long moment, seeming almost regretful of the loss. He was released after what felt like an eternity, and he waited for the final blow to come.

"It seems you speak the truth, such loyalty will be rewarded in time. Rise Severus, take your rightful place."

Severus stood, even as pain sang along his nerves, and moved to stand at the Dark Lord's side. Somehow, against the very direst of odds, he was alive. He had lied, bold-faced and unashamed to the Dark Lord and lived through it. It was the first test of many, but he would take what victories he could. His oath to Lily was his only purpose now, he would find a way to keep her son alive…no matter the cost.

For Lily, he could be brave.


	54. Where It Keeps Its Brain

**Written for Round Two of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed / Prompt: "H-how long have you been standing there?" [Speech] / Word Count: 4903**

 **AU from the moment Ginny tries to dispose of the Diary in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.**

 **Warning: Major Character Death**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 _February, 1993_

Hermione had meant to turn it in, honestly, but there was something about the plain, black diary that seemed to draw her. She'd dried it out and then tucked it into her trunk, determined to turn it in first thing in the morning. Somehow though, the little black book managed to slip her mind until she found herself in the library after classes that day. She ran her thumb over the simple embossing on the cover, _**T. M. Riddle**_ , and a strange shiver went down her spine as she touched it. Flipped through the yellowed pages, she found it strange that there wasn't anything written in it. Something about the blank pages were practically begging to be written upon, to be filled with her thoughts. Hermione had never kept a diary, some small part of herself worried that someone might read it and expose her inner thoughts and fears to ridicule.

'You're a witch now, there are spells for that,' she mused to herself, considering the little book. She didn't recognize the last name of the student, so odds were this book had been lost quite some time ago. Could it really hurt to keep it? Her little secret. Mind made up, Hermione tucked the little book safely into her book bag and completed her essay on the function of fluxweed in polyjuice potion for Professor Sprout.

Only that night, inside her drawn bed curtains, did Hermione pull out the little black diary. She dipped her quill into a pot of deep, sapphire-blue ink, and she jotted the date down in the top corner, only to have the ink disappear into the page. She frowned deeply, a little furrow appearing between her eyebrows. This time she wrote her name, finishing with an elegant little curl.

 _Hello Hermione Granger, my name is Tom Riddle._

Hermione nearly dropped her quill in shock, torn between responding and throwing the book as far away from her as she could. It couldn't hurt to try and learn more…could it? So this time she wrote, **'** **What exactly are you, Tom?'**

 _A memory that has been preserved in this diary for nearly fifty years, if the date you wrote was accurate. How did you come across my diary, Miss Granger?_

Hermione's curiosity was roused, the darkness and privacy of her bed emboldening her. Her quill danced across the page, telling him how she'd found it abandoned in a girl's lavatory, waterlogged. She did apologize for what clearly had to be quite an indignity.

 _A strange place to be discovered indeed. Thank you for take the trouble to dry me out and keep me from further damage. I must admit that I didn't realize how lonely it would be when I created this object. It's been a very long time since I've had anyone to truly talk to…in a manner of speaking. May I enquire as to what year you are in?_

' **I'm in my second year,'** Hermione wrote, a little nervous as she answered his question.

 _I would have thought you older, going by your penmanship & vocabulary. Clearly you take great care to form your thoughts carefully. Ravenclaw I assume?_

Hermione laughed a little to herself, feeling a kind of warmth as she answered Tom's polite enquiries and asked a few of her own. She learned that he had been a student in Slytherin house, but that he had grown up in a muggle orphanage, only learning he was a half-blood during his second year at school. She'd confided in him her own blood status, worried when he did not reply for a long time.

 _Muggle-born? Forgive me, your understanding of magical theory and history far outstrips what most muggle-borns I've known have ever cared to learn. You are clearly an exception to so many rules, Hermione. I do hope you continue to speak to me, despite my views on most others from your background. I've been alone so long, I believe I would enjoy talking more with you. Please say you'll write to me again._

Hermione swallowed thickly and picked up her quill again and wrote a simple, ' **Yes** '.

 _Then I bid you good-night, and pleasant dreams. Until next time, Hermione._

' **Good-night, Tom.'** Hermione made herself shut the diary and carefully put away her quill and ink. She placed the curious book in the drawer of her nightstand and carefully cast a basic ward on the drawer to protect the diary until morning. She would keep it with her, to protect it from being damaged or lost again. Tom seemed to be intelligent, and it was nice to have someone to talk to that she didn't need to explain everything to. After all, if she didn't like the things he was saying…she could just stop writing in it.

o.o.O.o.o

 _June, 1993_

The months wore on with no further attacks, and the whispers about Harry being the Heir of Slytherin began to taper off, the threat seemingly gone. Hermione found herself writing to Tom each night before bed, it had become a bit of a ritual for her. He'd ask about her day, and her friends…and debate things from her classes with her. It was wonderful to have someone that understood her.

' **I'm not looking forward to the summer. I mean of course I want to see my parents, but it's a whole two months without magic. It's not fair.'** She allowed herself to whine a little. Hermione tried not to do it often, imagining that being trapped in a diary for fifty some odd years meant that he had a much worse life than she did, but she truly hated leaving Hogwarts in the summer.

 _You realize that the trace is tied to your wand? Any wandless magic is untraceable by the Ministry, and only truly large bursts of accidental magic will register in the under-aged sorcery department. If you take me with you, I can teach you how to use magic without your wand. It's a very valuable skill to possess, and helping you learn is the least I can do after you've rescued me from decades of obscurity._

Hermione smiled, eyes lighting up at the prospect of learning something new. **'Of course I'm bringing you home with me, I would never leave you behind. Isn't wandless magic extremely difficult though?'**

 _Only for the mundane, and you are extraordinary. I would be very much surprised if you couldn't learn at least a few basic, handy little wandless spells. Perhaps we could start with something easy like lumos, or a summoning charm._

' **I can't wait.'** She felt so much closer to Tom than she did Ron and Harry these days. The two of them were so busy discussing Quidditch that they barely spared her a second thought, at least until it was time to prepare for exams. A little thread of resentment ran through her.

 _How are your friends faring with their exams? I know you spent hours helping them prepare._

' **Struggling, but I'm hardly surprised. Unless it's about snitches or quaffles, getting their attention is something of a lost cause. Sometimes it feels like they only have time for me when they want something.'** She frowned, giving voice to something that had been bothering her for a while. She hated that Ron got most of Harry's attention. They were together all the time, and she KNEW they were keeping secrets from her. Hadn't she proved herself to them, stealing from Snape's stores, lying to Lockhart to get the pass for the restricted section, and even brewing an illegal potion in a girl's lavatory for one of their hare-brained schemes? **'I do more for Harry than Ron does, and yet HE is the one that Harry always turns to first. I hate it.'**

 _It's not right that they ignore you, Hermione. You're so much more special than the Weasley boy, you're steadfast and understanding where he is jealous of Harry's fame, and your intelligence. He's nothing. Lower than the dirt on your shoes, and one day Harry will realize that. He'll understand how foolish he was to trust the weasel, mark my words…one day Ron will betray you both and everything will finally be as it's meant to. Remember, every time he taunts you for your intelligence it's only out of jealousy. He will never be even a fraction as talented as you are, and he knows it. I'll always be here for you, even when they are not. I promise you that, my clever little friend._

o.o.O.o.o

June 18th 1993

Gaining control of Hermione's body had been somewhat more difficult than it had been to possess Ginny Weasley, but that was unsurprising to Tom. Over the months he had come to learn much about the little mudblood that had found his Diary. Surprisingly she had been a far more compatible conduit than the emotionally unstable eleven year old. He drew a robe over the girl's pajamas and stole out of Gryffindor Tower on silent feet. They were leaving for the trains in the morning, and there was one little thing he needed to do. His original plan had been to drain little Ginny of her life force to fuel his resurrection, but he was hesitant to do it with Hermione. She was far too intelligent and driven, too much like had been at that age. Like him, she had requested to take every possible elective for next year, and while he had warned her that the teachers would not allow it, he applauded her ambition. It was a trait so many Gryffindors lacked.

With his voice in her ear, he could turn Hermione into an asset that no one would ever see coming. Her innate insecurities and latent jealousy could be fanned carefully to drive her into the lure of the dark arts. With enough time and preparation he could convince her to be the agent of his resurrection, and perhaps even find her a place at his side. Power was all that mattered, and this girl had plenty of it. He moved through the shadows in her borrowed form, silent as death. He found the quarters of that idiot Lockhart without much trouble, and using Hermione's wand they dismantled the wards with ease. He'd have expected more from a Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, but considering the man was fraud he supposed that he shouldn't have been so surprised.

Lockhart was sleeping soundly in his bed. Tom cast a complicated sleeping spell, and then approached. He opened the Diary and laid it over the sleeping wizard's chest and began to lay the transfer runes. In the matter of a few hours, Lockhart would be dead and he'd become more powerful. Influencing Hermione would take more power, and there would likely need to be several more deaths. Idly he wondered if he could manipulate her jealousy of Ron Weasley to make her accept that Ron needed to die to 'free' her friend Tom from his diary 'prison'. It would be a challenge…but Tom had always loved impossible tasks. It might take years, but he could be patient. He'd spent fifty years entombed in a forgotten book. For the perfect plan…he could bide his time.

By the time Lockhart was dead, his magic siphoned off into the diary, Tom's plan was nearly set in his head. Jealousy was a wonderful little emotion. Everyone was guilty of it from time to time, and when fed properly it could be a powerful motivator. He'd turn Hermione into his weapon, his own little green-eyed monster, and in doing so he would be free.

o.o.O.o.o

September 19th, 1993

 _Happy Birthday, Hermione._

' **At least someone remembered,'** Hermione wrote, unable to help but feel a little bitter at her birthday passing unremarked yet again by Harry. Last year he'd bribed one of the older students to get him sweets from Hogsmeade for Ron's birthday, and she hadn't even gotten card. It wasn't FAIR.

 _Boys can be so thoughtless. I do have something of a gift for you though. Sadly, trapped in a Diary all I can offer is knowledge, but I think this particular secret might be something you would truly enjoy. There is a place on the seventh floor, just across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. Pace up and down that spot three times, thinking about needing a quiet place to study. Write back once you've found the secret room._

Hermione frowned a little, but tucked the diary into her book bag and she ghosted out of Gryffindor Tower, no one even looking up as she passed through the room. Her time turner was tucked securely under her jumper. Tom had been stunned when she'd told him about the time turner, and scoffed at the supposed rules she was meant to follow. He'd noted that the possibilities were nearly limitless for her. She could rewind whole days and just devote them to studying topics of her choice and no one would ever be the wiser. She could do just about anything she wanted, so long as she was careful. Between the two of them they devised a cunning little schedule that would maximize her time and yet keep anyone from getting too suspicious.

She reached the tapestry and she began to pace, thinking about what she needed. Tom had said to think about a quiet place to study, and then suddenly a door appeared out of nowhere. Hermione reached out and turned the handle, and was led into a room out of her dizziest daydreams. There was a beautifully carved mahogany desk with a comfortable chair sitting in front of a steadily burning fire. The walls were lined with books, and the desk had a supply of parchment, ink, and quills. There were also comfortable chairs and sofas for curling up to read in. She sat at the desk and pulled out the Diary.

' **Tom, this is incredible. No one else knows about this?'** She was in awe.

 _I learned about it from the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, Helena Ravenclaw. She only shares this secret with those that have a true need. I'd advise keeping this place a secret, you never know when you might need somewhere to hide. This room can be anything you need it to be, and there is also another part of this place, called the Room of Forgotten things. To access it you need to think about needing a place to hide something while you pace in front of the tapestry. I've never told anyone else about this place. Happy Birthday, Hermione._

' **Thank you, Tom. It means a lot to me that you'd trust me with this secret.'** She stroked her fingers over the pages. The summer had been amazing, and under Tom's unique tutelage she'd begun learning to use her magic without relying on her wand. The way he'd explained everything just made so much sense, and she'd been able to learn the lighting charm, summoning charm, and even the banishing charm. He'd told her the next step was learning to do them non-verbally as well, but explained it would take much more practice before she mastered it.

 _You trust me with yours, it only seems fair that I return the favour. Enjoy the books, there are things on these shelves that you won't even find in the restricted section._

And lose herself in the room Hermione did. So much so, that she ended up having to use the time turner that morning just to get some sleep. The secret study room became a growing addiction of hers, and she found herself pouring everything she had into the books on the shelves, encouraged by Tom to take as much advantage of the time-turner as she could. She was so busy that she even managed for a time to forget her jealousy of Ron, and ignore his petty digs at her familiar. He was insignificant compared to her, and his opinion matter nothing at all. If Crookshanks ate Scabbers, it would serve the idiot right for not keeping his rat properly contained. It would probably be a blessing for the diseased old thing, a quick death at the jaws of her cat than continuing to linger on as Ron's pet. She suppressed a shudder just thinking of it.

o.o.O.o.o

December 26th, 1993

Hermione was crying, alone in her dorm. She wrote everything down into the Diary about how horrible Ron and Harry were being to her. All because she'd rightfully reported the mysterious Firebolt to Professor McGonagall. She'd given up her Christmas with her parents to stay here and keep Harry company and he wouldn't even speak to her, spending all his time with Ron playing exploding Snap and Wizards Chess. Her tears splashed down on the page of the diary, leaving little wet spots on the paper.

 _Hermione, are you crying?_

' **I'm sorry, I can't help it. I just wanted to protect him…doesn't he understand that the broom could have come from Black and been cursed?! I did the right thing and now it's like first year all over again.'**

 _I…are you alone?_

' **Yes, why?'**

 _I think I'm strong enough to do this, just don't scream ok. This has to remain our secret._

A moment later, a boy appeared beside her bed. He was wearing Slytherin robes, and had black hair and dark blue eyes. He was unbelievably handsome as he stood there. He looked to be a handful of years older than her, and there was a look of tripadation and concern on his features.

"Tom?" Hermione said, wiping at her tears.

"It's me," he said and came closer, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out and touched her hand, nearly gasping at the feel of someone's skin after so long. "I don't know how long I can stay like this…but I didn't want you to be alone."

Hermione slipped her fingers through his. "Thank you," she said, another tear slipping down her cheek.

Tom reached out and brushed it away tenderly. "You don't deserve their scorn, you don't deserve any of it," he said. "One day they'll see how wrong they were, and they'll beg your forgiveness." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I promise you that," he whispered, taking great care with her. She was so emotionally raw that he could feel the Horcrux connecting with her now on a level it hadn't before. She was his now and he'd destroy anyone that tried to take her away from him.

Hermione blushed at the delicate kiss. "How are you able to be here?" she asked.

"Always so curious, it's what I love about you," Tom said. "I think the act of us conversing has made me…stronger, for lack of a better word. Magic is all about intent after all. You've always wanted to help me, and sensing how upset you are tonight I wanted to help you. I think that's what's allowing me to be here like this. You're magically quite powerful, and so was I…it only makes sense that we would bond this way," he said, skirting the truth neatly. She wasn't ready yet to learn that he had killed Lockhart while possessing her body. In time she would…but not yet.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as she considered it. "Whatever the reason, and somehow I think you know more than you're telling me, I'm just glad you are here," she said, her suspicions confirmed with his little grin. He moved to sit against her headboard and pulled her into a hug.

"Just rest tonight, and I'll stay as long as I can. It'll all be better in the morning, I promise," he whispered into her wild curls. He breathed in deeply, realizing that she even smelled like power, like the dancing bite of wild electricity that made your hair stand on end. How did so much power get trapped in a mudblood's body? It defied conventional knowledge. He wanted to storm down there and hex the two boys into oblivion for daring to make _**his**_ witch cry. They had the gift of her friendship, her company, whenever they wished it and instead of treasuring her as she deserved…they belittled her, and squandered her love. He would have given anything to have her at his side all those years ago, someone on his own level. How dare they take her for granted?

o.o.O.o.o

June 11th, 1994

Tom lounged on the sofa in their 'study room', the picture of casual ease even if he was anything but today. There was a lot to digest from everything Hermione had told him about the preceding day's adventure. He felt cold inside, knowing that his witch could have died, and he'd have been helpless to prevent it. Again the unfamiliar threads of jealousy wrapped around his heart at the thought of Potter being the one at her side, Potter being the one to benefit from her cleverness and daring. Worse was the fact that it would always be Potter that would gain the accolades and recognition for Hermione's brilliance. It rankled bitterly, but no…it wasn't time yet to move. She was still too young, too naïve about the world. She needed to be disillusioned more yet, thought the seeds were there. He finally sat up and walked over to where Hermione was pacing, ranting about the utter unfairness that Lupin was being forced to resign for something that wasn't his fault.

Tom placed his hands on her upper arms and stopped her. "You could have died," he said softly.

Hermione blinked, pulled out of her rant. "I didn't though."

"But you could have, so easily." He swallowed. "Promise me you'll be more careful. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I promise, Tom." She nodded, meeting his eyes.

Tom could see the understanding of the danger she'd been in blossom in her eyes, the barest touch of legilimency letting him see that she finally realized how close death had been to her. "See that you do."

o.o.O.o.o

August 26th, 1994

Hermione was racing through the campgrounds, separated from Harry and Ron. She ducked behind a concession stand and pressed herself against the wood, trying to make herself small enough to avoid detection. A hand touched her arm and she screamed, drawing her wand only to look into Tom's face. "Tom?"

"I could feel your fear." He whispered, taking her hand and leading her away from the masked figures.

"I need to find the Weasleys and Harry," she said. "We were separated in the rush." At the mention of Harry and Ron, Tom gripped her hand tighter, the bones almost grinding together. "Tom, you're hurting me!"

"Stop talking about THEM!" he all but hissed. "I need to get you away from here, they don't matter, you do." He pulled her close as another group passed by, and then they started running for the woods. He set a blinding pace, dragging her along behind him.

It was dark as pitch, and Hermione's legs were screaming at her from the breakneck pace Tom was setting. Finally he stopped, and Hermione doubled over and gasped for breath. She could distantly hear the shouts and screams from the campground, but it was muted so they must have been well clear of it. She lifted her head and looked at Tom, unsure why he looked so completely furious. "What's wrong, Tom? Talk to me," she said.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," he whispered, something like pain flashing through his eyes. "I never intended it to be like this. You have to believe me, Hermione." He turned to face her fully. He needed to tell her the truth, all of it. "I…there's something I need to tell you, and I know it might cost me your friendship…but you deserve to know."

"Tom, there's nothing you could say that would make me hate you." She frowned, unsure what had prompted this. She knew Tom had secrets, but she respected him too much to pry.

"I'm far more than a memory, Hermione, and I know you've suspected that for a long time. In truth, I'm half of someone's soul, a safeguard against death. It was always intended that if the main body was ever destroyed, that I could use the diary to leech power out of someone, and regain my physical form. The only problem was…I didn't want to do that to you. So I found other ways, but they were not powerful enough to completely free me from the Diary. I was content to wait, until you'd had more time to understand the true nature of magic before I told you, but those men tonight…I fear that those men were acting in my name. You are too special to me to risk someone hurting you because of some twisted version of my ideology."

"Those men were Death Eaters, they followed Lord Voldemort…not Tom Riddle. He was long after your time." Hermione frowned, utterly confused.

"Lord Voldemort *is* my time…" He made a gesture with his hand and 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' was emblazoned in the night air in fiery letters. Another gesture rearranged them into 'I am Lord Voldemort'.

Hermione's knees gave out as she sank to the ground, shaking her head. "But you're not *him*, you're my friend…" She shook her head in denial.

"I am your friend, Hermione," Tom said quietly. "But I also became Lord Voldemort. I don't know how or why my desires became so twisted, corrupted from what I wanted when I made the diary…and I swear to you I will do everything I can to make sure that my other self never hurts you. Please, just tell me that you won't walk away from me." He walked over and knelt in front of her, reaching out to touch her face. "Please Hermione…" Tom's normally closed expression painfully raw and open in that moment.

Hermione leaned into the touch, and was about to respond when a twig snapped in the darkness. Hermione's head spun, and her heart sank as Harry stepped out of the darkness. "Harry! H-how long have you been standing there?" Her heart was pounding wildly as fear for Harry, and fear for Tom warred in her chest.

"Long enough." Harry had his wand drawn. "Get away from him Hermione, he has you bewitched."

Hermione shook her head, "Harry you don't understand. Please just let me explain." She didn't notice Tom slipping her wand out of her jacket.

"He's Voldemort Hermione…don't listen to him! He'll promise you anything to get what he wants, but it's just a lie," Harry said, his tirade interrupted by a scream as pain blossomed through his body. White-hot agony lanced across his torso and his wand clattered to the forest floor.

Tom's dark eyes were on fire as he stood, Hermione's wand held elegantly in his hand. "No Potter, the only lie is the one you tell yourself about being her friend. The truth is that she's just a tool that you use when it's convenient, but the moment she questions you…you cast her out, to teach her a lesson about her proper place in your little circle. I am the Dark Lord Potter, and to gain her favour I was on my knees before her, begging her forgiveness. That is friendship, that is love…something you don't deserve from her." He made another harsh slash with his wand, opening another vicious laceration on Potter's torso.

"Tom, STOP! Please…" Hermione was crying, pleading with him.

"There is no other way Hermione, don't try to interfere." Tom looked over his shoulder at her, using a sticking charm to keep her in place. "No one can know I exist…Potter was a sad tragedy, killed by rogue Death Eaters." He longed to cast Avada Kedavra and erase the boy from the face of this earth, but not with Hermione's wand. No…nothing so overt. He grinned then, all of his jealousy over Potter's closeness to Hermione bringing out his darker tendencies. Three more well placed cutting hexes and Potter quickly bled his life out into the forest floor. Only when the boy was pale and cold, did he look back at Hermione. Tom knew what he needed to do.

She had her eyes squeezed tight, her cheeks wet with tears. "Why….why Tom why?" She whispered softly while shaking her head in denial.

"Because he dared to claim a place in your heart, my sweet, powerful girl. That heart belongs to me, and me alone. I'll kill anyone that tries to take your affections from me." He leaned forward and gently kissed her, a dragon jealously admiring his hard-won hoard. "Shhhh now…it'll all be better soon." He soothed her and raised her wand. "Obliviate." He stole the events of the night from her mind, she would remember running from the Death Eaters, and then a blissful nothingness. She'd have absolutely no recollection of his presence here tonight, or his real identity. His initial reactions had been right, she wasn't ready. But with Potter's life force added to the power he'd stolen from Lockhart, he would be able to leave the diary at will. He would take control of these Rogues and ensure the safety of his precious prize. He'd hunt down and destroy all other traces of his former self, leaving him the sole heir to Lord Voldemort's glory. Tom had never been one to share, especially not power and certainly not Hermione.


	55. Why So Blue?

**A/N: Written for Round Two of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Accidental Magic / Word Count: 487**

 **Very AU. For Longtime Readers, can be considered part of my** **What Worth A Life** **Universe.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Lucius was reading, one eye on the Daily Prophet and the other on his son Lysander, where he laid on the soft blue blanket Hermione had settled him on. Hermione was dealing with a few matters at the Ministry this afternoon, and he was all too happy for the excuse to spend time with his 13 month old son. Pim, one of the Malfoy House Elves, was levitating some stuffed animals around Lysander. The happy baby cooed and waved his hands at the toys, trying to grab them. Pim was very fond of the baby, and most afternoons you could find her playing with the newest member of the Malfoy family.

Suddenly, his son grew frustrated and a little blast of power struck Pim, instantly turning the little elf bright, electric blue. Lucius tossed the paper aside, and went over, scooping his son up, overjoyed to have been there to see Lysander's very first piece of accidental magic, and at only just over a year old! 

"Well done son! Wait until we tell your mother!" He grinned as the baby reached out and bopped him on the nose. Lucius would never allow such a silly moment in public, he had an image to maintain after all, but here in the privacy of the Manor, he could be as silly as he pleased.

"Tell me what?" Hermione asked as she stepped into the room, distracted as she undid the clip that attempted to contain her wild hair. She stopped dead when she saw the state of Pim. "Lucius! What on earth did you do to Pim?" Her tone was heavy with accusation.

"It was young Master, Mistress," Pim said, wringing her hands. "Pim upset him. Pim is a bad elf!"

"Stop that at once and come here. I'll put you to rights." Hermione slipped her wand out and managed to return the Elf to her usual shade of green.

"It was just a little accidental magic, darling. The elf is perfectly fine." Lucius snorted and arched an eyebrow at her. "Your son just displayed exceptional accidental magic, you might try looking pleased."

"He…" Hermione stopped and then realized he was teasing her. She let out a slow breath and gave him a look. "I can't believe I missed it." She went over and took her son from Lucius, stroking his blonde curls. "Lysander, you must not be mean to Pim, she loves you very much." She said trying to sound semi-serious.

In response, her son blew a raspberry and tangled his hand in her chestnut curls.

"Just like your bloody father, impossible." Hermione glared at her smirking husband, as if her son's irreverence was entirely Lucius' fault. Secretly, beyond her dismay at poor Pim being turned an alarming shade of electric blue, she was quite pleased at the early indication of Lysander's magical prowess. Her son was going to be just as brilliant as both his parents.


	56. Stolen Life

**Written for Round Two of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Stand-in for Year 6] / Prompt: Birth [Event] / Word Count: 2029**

 **Big Thank-You to Carolare for Beta'ing & Brainstorming!** **  
**

 **Canon Compliant – Set August 1** **st** **, 1980.**

o.o.O.o.o 

There was a flare of green fire as the floo roared to life, bringing through Lucius Malfoy. Severus' didn't react at all and remained slumped on the thread-bare couch, wearing last night's robes, and the Daily Prophet laying crumpled on the floor by his feet. The mouldering ruin of his father's house was the fitting setting for the dark turn his thoughts had taken since seeing the innocuous notice in the Announcements section. He didn't know why he tortured himself by checking that part of the paper. He'd known all along what it would do to him, but ever since seeing Lily in Diagon Alley all those months ago, belly gently rounded with her child, he hadn't been able to resist.

"You look like you could use a drink," Lucius said and sat down beside him. He'd brought a bottle of his father's best scotch and two glasses. Narcissa had brought the paper to his attention today at lunch, and he'd known that he'd find his young friend here and in this sorry state.

Lucius picked up the crumpled paper, eyes lingering over the small announcement under births and marriages.

 **Lord James C. Potter and his wife Lily are pleased to announce the birth of a healthy baby boy, Harry James Potter, on July 31st. Lord and Lady Potter were unreachable for further comment, but sources close to the family report that Sirius Black has been named Godfather, and Alice Longbottom honoured with the title of Godmother.**

Lucius tossed the paper into the fire and looked over at Severus. The twenty year old was staring sightlessly at the floor, the expression on his face a mixture of anguish and rage. "You need to let her go," he said quietly.

"She was supposed to be MINE." Severus stood in an eruption of violent movement. "She only married him to spite me and now…" He drove his fist into the wall, not even feeling the crunch of the small bones in his hand as they shattered upon impact. He struggled against the arms that wrapped around him, bands of iron dragging him back from the wall and preventing him from doing any more harm.

"It's for the best Severus, you know that," Lucius whispered into his friend's ear. The younger wizard's passion for Lily Evans was without question, but unfortunately he had lost the competition for the witch's affections. Even more unfortunately, Severus was not a man to lose gracefully. "She would never have accepted you for who you truly are, you know that."

"I could have made her understand…" Severus collapsed down to his knees, bitter tears falling down from his face. She was his whole world and now she was truly gone forever. He wasn't so great a fool as to think he had a chance to win her back now. James Potter's victory over him was now utterly complete.

It should have been _**him**_ standing opposite her last year, proclaiming his love for her and becoming her husband. He should have been the one Lily promised to stand beside forever. Not Potter. Not that arrogant, selfish, pompous toerag. She was supposed to have been his, just as he was hers. He loved her so much it was like a knife tearing into his heart, he always had. Lily was the one pure, good thing in his life and losing her was the greatest regret of his young life. His horrid temper and vicious tongue had lost him the only person who'd ever cared about him.

Potter was no fool, regardless of what else he might think about him. He'd waited for his chance and the minute Severus had stumbled, the disgusting opportunist had swept in, becoming Lily's white knight and made her forget all about her unfortunate, awkward friend. Every single day he'd had to watch that wizard hanging off his beautiful friend had torn at his heart. Potter had stolen her from him, and it was as if he'd never existed. There was no more room in her life for him, no time to think about the boy that had spent hours telling her about the wonders of Hogwarts, who'd lain beside her under the summer sun as they dreamed about the future and all it would bring. No time for the boy she'd promised to be friends with forever. No thoughts for the boy who'd been her first kiss, when they'd been caught in Greenhouse Number four during an unexpected spring rainstorm.

One momentary lapse, and it had allowed Potter to take it all. Rich. Handsome. Talented Potter. A sob tore itself from his throat, even as he distantly felt Lucius gathering him into a fierce embrace. He took the offered comfort, needing it so very much. Severus knew he'd always been a horribly jealous creature, growing up with nothing had left him to envy those that took their good fortune for granted. He'd treasured every meal, every piece of second hand clothing...regardless of how hideous it had been, simply because he knew how easily he could have had absolutely nothing. But this burning, writhing, darkness in his soul was a new sensation. He wanted to destroy Potter, wipe every trace of him off the face of this earth for taking the life that should have been Severus'.

It should have been _**his**_ son born yesterday, cradled gently in Lily's slender arms. A child with Lily's eyes and his hair. A baby that would embody all the good parts of them both, her kindness and his wit, her determination and his intelligence. A truly perfect child that he would have burned the whole world down to protect. One good, pure piece of him to go forward in the world. Instead it was Potter's child that Lily had carried in her body, and now held in her loving embrace. A child that would be nothing more than an arrogant, shallow little shadow of its horrid father. Lily's perfection wasted on James Bloody Potter's spawn.

"Severus...let me heal your hand?" Lucius's voice cut through the darkness in his mind.

Severus nodded and reluctantly allowed his friend to lift him up, and walk him over to the sofa. He looked down at the bloody mess that was his wand hand and sighed. Of course Lily had chosen Potter, the Golden Gryffindor from the good family, with a fortune to lavish on her. Why had he ever been stupid enough to think that she'd ever want him? The filthy, destitute, half-blood son of a drunken, abusive muggle? He watched Lucius heal the bones in his hand, and then clean the blood off his knuckles.

"There's essence of dittany in the bathroom cabinet," he said quietly, surprised at just how badly he'd mangled himself. His voice was raw from all the sobbing, screaming, and cheap whiskey he'd imbibed before Lucius' arrival.

Lucius nodded and left the room, returning with the dittany and tending the deep runnels where he'd removed the flesh from his knuckles on the wall. "There...good as new," he said, silver eyes lifting to look at Severus' face.

"Nothing about me is good, Lucius," Severus whispered.

"If I truly believed that, I'd hardly be here right now." Lucius poured them both a generous drink. "While I'm sure you have a head start on me, drink. It might not make you feel better, but it will numb the pain."

Severus snorted inelegantly. "The only way to numb what I feel right now would be to cut my own heart out."

Lucius nodded. "I do know how it feels, and I won't lie and tell you it gets easier. You just learn to live with it."

Severus nodded. "I'm used to living with pain, what's a little more?" He tried to summon a small smile, but the effect was more of a grimace.

"You're worth ten of Potter, she was a fool to not see it," Lucius said quietly. "You'll find someone Severus, someone who'll appreciate you for who you are...all that you are."

"No," Severus cut him off. "I'll never feel for anyone else what I feel for her," He swore. "I had one chance, more than someone like me deserves, and Potter stole it from me." His black eyes seemed to burn as the jealous rage resurfaced. "I hate him."

"I know," Lucius just said, shuddering at the feel of magic lashing through the room.

Severus threw back the drink, letting it burn his throat...a small hurt to try and salve the massive one ripping him apart. He'd been burying all of his resentment, self-loathing, and anger for year only to have that bloody announcement tear his walls down and lay his wounds bare. A baby changed everything. There had always been a small hope that one day Lily would come to her senses and see the truth of what Potter was, that perhaps he could win her back, but not now. The birth of her child, this 'Harry', had destroyed that small hope as he'd come into the world. It made him hate the boy, almost as violently as he hated the child's father.

Sainted James Potter, who could never do any wrong, at least not in the eyes of the Headmaster, or anyone that mattered. Potter, who had stolen his spells and turned them against him, who had been handed everything he'd ever wanted on a golden platter. The child would be just like him, spoilt, arrogant, and entitled. His eyes fixed on a spot on the wall as the whole horrifying sight played out in his mind. A miniature James Potter, Lording it over a new generation, unleashing torture and torment on the less fortunate. He shuddered in disgust, drawn out of his dark imaginings by his friend's insistent voice.

"Narcissa wants you to come and stay with us for a while. She doesn't want you to be alone," Lucius said, watching the thoughts spin over his face.

"I won't be very good company, I wouldn't want to inflict myself on her," Severus said sadly. "No, you should go home to your family, Lucius," he insisted quietly, pouring himself some more scotch. He rarely touched the stuff, it reminding him too much of his own father. Though, he highly doubted that Tobias Snape had ever tasted anything this expensive in his short, miserable life.

"My wife would castrate me if I left you in this state, she's strangely fond of you." He chuckled.

"Only because I brewed her anti-nausea potions during her pregnancy, and that I did to keep her from killing you." Severus shook his head, trying to let his friend drag him up out of the darkness in his thoughts, but it felt like a lie. What right did he have to smile and laugh when everything he'd ever wanted was gone? No. Not gone...taken. Stolen.

"Severus, stop." Lucius said sharply. "It's done, don't give the bastard the satisfaction of torturing you forever. You have to let it go, or it will eat you up inside."

"Maybe that's what I deserve." Severus said, and then suddenly found himself reeling backwards as Lucius struck him. He tasted blood from a split lip. "Merlin's balls Lucius!"

"Enough. You're the youngest Potions Master in nearly three centuries, favoured of the Dark Lord himself, and you're my bloody friend! James Potter isn't worth the dirt on your shoes, and I won't sit here and listen to you say otherwise. He took your witch, that's true, so make him regret it. Make _**her**_ regret it, Severus. Live your life, and don't look back. Jealousy never solved anything, so let it go." Lucius gripped his friend's face in his hands. "Please Severus, just let Lily go."

Severus closed his eyes and leaned forward, forehead touching Lucius'. Everything was blurred by alcohol and pain, but he clung to the one person that was still here for him. "I don't know how," he whispered quietly, as tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I'll help you, I promise," Lucius swore. He'd been protecting Severus since he'd met him as a skinny, half-starved first year and he'd be damned if he let James Potter destroy what was left of him.

~Fin~


	57. Birth of an Idea

Written for Round Two of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short [Standin for Year 6] / Prompt: Knockturn Alley / Word Count: 544

o.o.O.o.o

Tom liked watching people. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it was fascinating to watch them interact and to read their expressions while they spoke and passed by one another in the street. One of the perks to working for old Burke was interacting with the customers. People who came down Knockturn Alley all had something to hide, and he loved trying to ferret it would. A touch of legilimency would have made it simple to learn the secrets they were hiding, but that was almost cheating. No, it was far more enjoyable to tease it out of them.

There was a little tinkle from the bell over the door, and Tom straightened up and nodded politely. A small smile curved over his lips as Abraxas entered Bourgin & Burke's.

"Ah, how may I help you today, Lord Malfoy?" He smirked, unable to help teasing his friend.

"It's more how I can help you," Abraxas chuckled. "I managed to get a lead on a certain…item, you've been searching for."

"Which one?" he asked.

"Two of them, in fact. The Cup of Helga Hufflepuff and your mother's locket." Abraxas pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and passed it to his friend.

Tom read the name on the paper and his smile turned dark, a hint of the monster peeking out. "Excellent work, Abraxas."

"Once you have them, will you finally leave this abysmal place? You're so much better than this Tom," Abraxas said, looking around the dusty shop with poorly concealed distain.

"Yes, there'll be no further need to remain here. I need to take a trip to Albania, but then we can proceed with other plans," he said and rolled his shoulders. "It was just a means to an end, a way to put Dumbledore off my scent. He expected me to go to the Ministry, he had his cronies ready to keep an eye on me." He chuckled. "I think this move derailed his expectations."

"I don't know why you let him dictate your actions. You could be a brilliant politician Tom, I've said it before," Abraxas said.

"I don't want to be a politician, 'Brax," he snorted. "Politicians are slaves to the special interests that get them elected; they can't institute real change which is what our world desperately needs. No, that can only come from revolution, and we'll be the ones to lead it. We'll show everyone the hypocrisy and redundancy of the current system and restore our society to greatness. Men like Dumbledore, and Grindlewald are the past. You and I, my friend, are the future." Tom's dark eyes were full of conviction.

The Knights of Walpurgis had just been an idea, but this lazy afternoon in Knockturn Alley, an idea was brought to life. Tom Riddle was done playing by the rules of a corrupt society that sought to control the thoughts and ambitions of its citizens. He would set the Wizarding world free and lead them on to a magnificent future. He could see it all, like an incredible painting, and all he had to do was set his brush to the canvas and start painting. He and Abraxas would lay the master strokes soon, and then everyone would understand the beauty of his vision.


	58. The Abraxan and the Boy

**Written for Round Three of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Abraxan / Word Count: 440**

 **Set during Goblet of Fire. Speech altered to accommodate Madame Maxine's accent.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Crunch. The massive Abraxan chomped on the apple Theo had offered it. In return for the rare treat, the massive golden steed deigned to allow the boy to stroke his velvety muzzle. It had become something of a ritual for the winged horse and the quiet Slytherin boy. He'd sneak down before breakfast, managing to get an apple or two from the kitchens. The Abraxan belonged to Madam Maxine, but he reminded Theo of the kind old Aethonan that his mother had owned when he'd been a small boy.

Hagrid knew he was here; the Care of Magical Creatures Professor just reminded him to not go into the paddock. No matter how tempted he was, Theo knew the Abraxan were much too high spirited for a rider of his relative inexperience. It was fun to imagine climbing onto its broad golden back and flying away, leaving his troubles behind.

A small smile tugged at his lips as the big stallion lipped at his collar, a small show of affection. Theo chuckled and rubbed the little whorl of hair between the creature's eyes. There was something about the smell of their breath, and the feel of their coats under his hand that just reminded him of long days spent in the stables with his mother. She'd sit him up on her Aethonan's back while she brushed old Argo down, not satisfied until his chestnut coat gleamed like burnished copper.

"You wouldn't mind if I called you Argo, would you?" Theo asked the handsome stallion. The steed arched his neck proudly, and flexed his wings as if in approval. "Thank you Argo," he replied and adjusted his position, now sitting on top of the fence. From this height he could easily scratch behind the stallion's ears.

"It seems you 'ave made a friend, young man." The heavily accented voice of Madame Maxine interrupted the quiet moment.

"I hope you don't mind, Madame," Theo said, straightening a little and summoning his most polite expression.

"Not at all. You may visit 'im, as much as you please," she insisted, never having seen the aloof stallion so gentle with anyone before. "You 'ave a gift, young man. If you ever wish one of your own, write to me and I would be happy to oblige you with one of 'is foals."

Theo felt his lips lift into a genuine smile, his usual masks falling away. "Thank you, Madame Maxine…once I'm done school, I'd be happy to accept your offer."

"Good, enjoy your visit," she said and headed off to check the rest of the herd, leaving the boy and the stallion to their quiet moment.

~Fin~


	59. Know Thyself

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Deception]** / **Prompt: First Line: There was always something not quite right about the door. / Word Count: 3786 (Not including Author's Note)**

 ****This piece can be considered a companion piece to Maripaz6's themed for this round, but both pieces stand alone. Some minor pieces of dialog were taken from Deathly Hallows, and this story can be considered mostly canon compliant.****

o.o.O.o.o

There was always something not quite right about the door. It didn't quite fit the frame, with little gaps that let light and cold air through, and it didn't entirely match the design of the rest of the Headmaster's Tower. Snape was drinking tonight, something more and more common as the nightmare that was his tenure as Headmaster of Hogwarts continued on. He found himself musing about how that door was like the previous occupant of the tower. Not quite right. Albus Dumbledore had been a great man, no one questioned that, no one except for those that had been unfortunate enough to see past the rotten façade of the kindly Headmaster, the bastion of light and goodness. Severus tossed back the remnants of his drink, the harsh burn driving the bad taste out of his mouth.

All his life, Severus had been accused of being a liar. The first time had been by his drunkard of a father, who had accused him of stealing his drinking money. Of course he'd denied it, and taken the beatings doled out, but he had been guilty. If he didn't nick a few pounds here and there, they'd go hungry, and to him a few rounds under his father's fists was worth the comfort of a partly full belly. Theft, deception, and subterfuge had been the keys to his survival his whole bloody life, but the one person that Severus never lied to was himself. He couldn't afford the luxury of self-deception like so many others. There had to be truth at the core of the tangled web that was his life, or he'd have been six feet under a long while back.

His long legs carried him across the Headmaster's office, to look out over the grounds. The mess he was currently embroiled in was one of his own making, and the result of the one time he'd foolishly indulged in hope. He remembered that night, nearly eighteen years ago, when he'd gone begging to a man he thought could be trusted. How wrong he had been.

 _It had been desperation that had prompted Severus to send the letter, requesting a secret meeting with the mortal enemy of his Master. He stole like a shadow towards the Hog's Head, and found the back door that the reply had told him to use. The small, decrepit room contained only a battered table, and two chairs of questionable structural integrity, and the looming form of Albus Dumbledore. It took everything in him not to cower before the man, and only pride allowed him to stand straight and tall, meeting his eyes boldly. He felt a flutter against his Occlumency shields, but he crushed it ruthlessly. He saw a flicker pass through the old man's benign gaze at that._

" _I must admit, I was surprised when I received your owl," the Headmaster began, breaking the silence._

" _I had no other choice, there was no one else." Severus was vibrating with tension. His fears were justified: the Dark Lord would kill him for coming here, but he was out of options._

 _The Headmaster settled into one of the chairs and leaned forward. "Really?"_

 _Severus felt a shiver run down his spine, a warning he didn't heed. Anger rushed through him, a familiar response to this man. His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes._ " _Do you imagine I would come to_ _ **you**_ _if there was anyone else on this earth I could turn to first?"_

" _I must admit, I had hoped you had moved past such misguided anger" The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. "Why are you here, Severus?"_

" _Lily… her life is in grave danger. Her whole family." He forced himself to add Potter and the brat into the equation, but it fooled no one. Lily's name was whispered almost like a prayer, full of desperation._

 _The older wizard looked at Snape over his half-moon spectacles. "Why?"_

 _Severus felt the accusation behind that single word, and in that moment he knew. Albus Dumbledore knew he'd been the one to take the prophecy to the Dark Lord. "That damned Prophecy. He thinks it's her son. You have to hide her, hide them all." It didn't matter what this man thought about him, so long as he protected her._

 _The Headmaster's eyes twinkled, but it was a cold light that danced in them. The warm expression melted off his face, something more calculating taking its place, like a predator ready to pounce. "Ask your Master to spare her."_

" _What makes you think I'd be fool enough to trust his word? Especially with the life of a muggle-born witch?" Severus' stomach fell down to his knees and his eyes narrowed, an unfriendly expression crossing his face. How DARE he ignore this warning!_

" _You are his follower. Your left arm bears his Mark." The man's words were simple, but the condemnation hit him._

 _Severus snorted. "He sees my worth, and I wear his mark willingly. He has promised to try and spare her, but he doesn't understand the value I place on her life. He will not try very hard."_

" _And so you come to me."_

" _As I said, there is no one else." His jaw was rigid, every instinct he had screaming at him to get out of this room and forget this lunacy. He couldn't believe it, the Leader of the Light was going to do nothing to save one of his own. He could see it written all over it his face, but Severus didn't want to believe it._

" _And you think I will save her?" The cold, calculating look was there again._

 _Severus snapped, letting go of the leash on his temper again. "She is a member of your Sainted Order, one of your golden Gryffindors. You have to save her!" he all but spat at him._

" _And what will you give me in return, Severus?" he asked._

 _In that instant Severus realized how badly he had miscalculated, and just what kind of a wizard he was bargaining with. Dumbledore really would leave them exposed, and not lift a finger to defend them unless he gained something of benefit in return. What would he give to save Lily's life? The answer was clear, "Anything. For her life, I would give you everything."_

 _Like water filling a bowl, the kindly grandfather had returned. The Headmaster stood, warm smile on his face and eye twinkling brightly. "Expect my owl in two hours. We shall be seeing much more of each other, Severus. Good day."_

 _As the door closed behind him, Severus collapsed down into one of the rickety chairs and let his head fall forward into his hands. He'd sold his soul, again, and he only prayed that one of his masters would honour the price they'd offered._

Severus shook the memory away, stained fingertips brushing stray tears from his cheeks. He could not afford that kind of weakness, not so close to the inevitable end. He drew a shaky breath and left the Headmaster's tower behind him, sweeping like a ghost through the hallways of the school. He refused to allow the Carrows to patrol at night, and as such…all night patrols fell to him. Sleep was something of a rarity for him now, and he couldn't help but remember the old saying: You can sleep when you're dead.

o.o.O.o.o

It was nearly three in the morning when he finally dragged himself up to the living quarters in the Headmaster's tower. He went to the bathroom, not bothering to light the lanterns. There was enough light from the moon to navigate by. He stripped off his stiff, formal robes and for a brief moment allowed himself to drop his Occlumency shields and just let himself **feel**. There was always the temptation to hide behind them forever, and not face the truths they concealed, but he knew better. It would be too easy to lie to himself about the things he had done, the people he had hurt and the lives he had helped destroy, but he could not. Circumstances meant he had to lie to everyone, every minute of every single day. He needed to tell the truth to someone, and unfortunately that meant looking himself in the eye every night and being honest about what he was doing.

The moonlight played over the haggard lines of his face, and highlighted the sorry state of his body. The stress of his impossible balancing act between light and dark had started to take a more physical toll this year. He'd never had much weight to spare, always being lean and lanky, but now there wasn't a spare ounce of fat on his bones, stress keeping him from eating most days, and guilt causing him to burn through the meager calories he managed to keep down. Scars painted the story of his life in shades of silvery white, fading pink, and angry red. The very oldest had been inflicted by his father, and some from his 'scuffles' with the Marauders, but most he could lay at the feet of his Master. The very worst that covered him dated back to a night just over two years ago.

Albus had, yet again, placed him in an impossible situation without a thought for the consequences. Forcing him to try and teach Occlumency to Potter had been reckless, dangerous, and pointless. Severus was a natural Occlumens, he had developed his skill mostly by instinct over the years, and honed it out of pure survival. Teaching someone without an ounce of natural ability was a delicate process, one that required absolute trust and dedication. The Master Occlumens was master of their emotions, actions, and thoughts. Asking a frightened, angry, teenage boy to even attempt it was ludicrous. But he had been commanded to do so, and so he had to at least appear to try.

The Dark Lord had been…less than pleased with him. The first curse had hit him before he'd even had the chance to kneel before his master, the metallic tang of his blood spicing the air. Hex after painful hex had struck him in rapid succession until there was nothing that existed in his mind but the pain, and the desperate hope that his master would mercifully end it. He'd always known that Potter would be the death of him. Finally, as he lay on the ground, trying to breathe through the agony of broken ribs, he'd felt his master's lips against his ear.

" _If I had wanted the boy's mind closed to me, I would have commanded it, Severus." The whisper had been laced with disappointment._

" _Dumbledore ordered me to assist him, I had to appear to do so," he managed to say, gasping as he felt a hand wrap around his throat._

" _Appear? Explain."_

" _The boy is incapable of learning such a subtle art, my Lord." He ground his teeth as a wave of pain hit him. "I batter his mind, weakening what little defences he has. I swear, I seek only to hinder him…not help." Potter could not learn Occlumency, so he had been forced to use the lessons as a way to secure his own position. He wondered if that had not been Albus' plan all along._

" _If I find his mind better guarded than it was before, Severus…I will be in need of a new Potions Master." The grip around his throat tightened, restricting his airway._

" _It won't be," he swore, voice a mere whisper._

" _We shall see."_

Severus had left the clearing alive that night, but only barely. Hagrid had found him near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, unconscious and barely clinging to life and had taken him to Poppy. The old mediwitch had tended to him, sadness in her eyes and a frown pursing her lips, but as ever she kept her opinions to herself. She'd pulled him back from the edge more times than he cared to count, and in the quiet hours of night before dawn, he often wondered if she regretted it.

He was a murderer. He was a liar. He was a traitor. There was no disputing those facts, and so he bore the brunt of everyone's anger. The reasons for the treason, lies, and murders were irrelevant, Severus was guilty and knew that at the end of this there were only two possible outcomes for him. Death or Azkaban. These days, death increasingly seemed to be the preferable option. Every time he had to look Minerva in the eye, another piece of himself died, but he couldn't show it. To her and the rest of his former colleagues, he needed to appear every inch the unrepentant, soulless Death Eater. It was a mask, one of many, but none of them cared to try and see beneath it. He'd taught beside them all for nearly two decades, and it was a testament to his acting abilities that none of them doubted his treachery. It still hurt however, and in these lonely moments he indulged the pain.

 _Severus raced into the Headmaster's office, summoned there by Albus' patronus. "What have you done Albus?" Severus worked quickly, using his rather considerable skill to bind the spreading curse into the older wizard's hand._

" _I fear I acted rashly, Severus. I came across an ancient artefact, a ring, in fact. It lay in an empty room, and I did not think anything of it-" Albus winced with the pain._

" _Stop lying, Albus," Severus interrupted him impatiently. "I need to know exactly what this curse was meant to do if I am to stop it."_

 _Albus was silent a moment and then sighed. "I went to the Gaunt residence, and I found this ring. It was clearly an heirloom, and I put it on."_

 _Severus went cold as the grave. He knew of course of the link between the Gaunt's and the Dark Lord. "Why were you there? What did you hope to find?" Severus turned his attention back to Albus' hand._

" _I am an old man, Severus, and old men are sometimes foolish."_

 _He snorted inelegantly. "So you will tell me nothing. An inch from death and you still will not trust me with the truth. I wonder if you're even capable of speaking it anymore." He pulled a vial from his robes and shoved it into his hand._

" _Severus," he began, lifting his hand to examine the extent of the damage._

" _No. Do not 'Severus' me, like I am some child having a fit. This is your life, Albus. This curse will_ _ **kill**_ _you. I have slowed it, but there is no way to stop it. You need to tell me," he insisted._

 _The Headmaster's face turned grave. "Then you know what must be done."_

" _You would ask me to murder you, destroy what little is left my soul? Have I not done enough?" Of course it wasn't enough, it would never be enough. The old bastard wouldn't be satisfied until he'd wrung every last ounce of usefulness out of him._

" _It must be done, Severus, and if it is not you, then the unfortunate burden falls upon the Malfoy scion. It would destroy him, and in extension, his parents. I am sure you remember Lucius?"_

" _Do you care nothing for what it will do to me?" he whispered, head falling down in defeat. They both knew he would do it, no matter how he fought and protested now._

" _I know you will do what is right." A familiar tone of condescension crept into his voice._

" _One of these days, old man, I will do what is best for me and damn what is_ _ **right**_ _." He lifted his head and glared furiously at him._

" _Thank you, Severus. It is better to meet death at the hand of dear friend than an enemy's."_

" _We are not friends." He closed his eyes, shaking his head in denial._

" _So you say." He looked to his hand again. "How long have I to live?"_

" _Perhaps a year, maybe less." Severus' voice was cold, detached as he drew behind his occulmency shields._

" _That is all the time I need."_

" _And all the time we have before the world falls apart." Once Dumbledore was dead, everything would fall into chaos. That much was completely certain._

" _Harry shall succeed, do not doubt the boy, Severus." The hope in his tone was palpable._

" _He is arrogant, petulant, unprepared, and untrained. He is not ready, not to defeat the Dark Lord," Severus snarled, falling into familiar patterns._

" _He may be unprepared, but I know he can make the ultimate sacrifice."_

" _What?" He turned and looked at the Headmaster, the words not making sense in his mind._

" _Neither can live while the other survives._ _Within him, Harry carries a sliver of Voldemort's soul. To kill Voldemort, Harry must first die." He delivered the news calmly, as if discussing the weather._

" _All this time, you've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!" Severus exploded, his magic sweeping through the room and exploding several delicate glass objects in his fury._

" _It is for the Greater Good, Severus"_

" _HANG THE GREATER GOOD! He is a CHILD. Lily's child." He choked on her name, tears coming to his eyes. For nothing…it had all been for nothing._

" _He_ _ **is**_ _Lily's child. She would be proud, proud to see her son die to defeat Voldemort."_

" _Don't you ever speak her name again, you know_ _ **nothing**_ _about what she wanted." The rage in him cooled, becoming more deadly as his voice turned to liquid silk. "I have given my whole life to protect him, and now you tell me that it is for nothing! How dare you?"_

" _The strong do as they will; the weak suffer what they must. This was never my decision to make." He sighed, as if saddled with some great burden. "I am, however, surprised that you care so much for Harry."_

 _Severus replied simply by drawing his wand and flicking it with a practiced flourish. An ethereal doe erupted from the tip, dancing around him with clear affection before disappearing off into the night._

" _After all this time?" He asked, looking honestly surprised._

" _Always." He turned on his heel and left the Headmaster's tower, his heart shattered into pieces. It was if Lily had died in his arms again, and his promise to her grave was now bitter ashes on his tongue. He could not save her son, the last piece of her left in this world. He had failed._

Severus sank down into the steaming hot water of the bath, and tipped his head back against the side. The heat and herbs he added to the water soothed his aching body, allowing him a few precious moments of relief from the effects of a life marked by too much hardship. As formidable as he appeared, under the starched collars and perfectly tied cravats, his body told the story of his life. It was a story of pain, and atonement. However unknowingly, he had betrayed the one person who had ever seen any worth in him. He was the reason she was dead. No, that was not entirely true. Lily had placed herself in harm's way; the prophecy had only enlarged the target on her back. Regardless of the truth, it still felt like it was entirely his fault. Sadly, there were no potions or herbs he knew of that could soothe a guilty conscience.

o.o.O.o.o

Severus had imagined his death many times over the years, for someone in his position would be a fool not to at least consider how they might meet their end. Lying in a pool of his own blood on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack had strangely never occurred to him. It seemed terribly pedestrian. He'd given Lily's son his memories in the only way he could, giving Harry just enough to convince the boy of his true loyalties, and to impart the horrible truth of his fate. It was almost a relief that he would not live to bury the boy. While Severus knew the Dark Lord may have killed him, it was his own guilt that had prevented him from defending himself.

In his robes there was a vial of Phoenix tears, a bezoar solution, and enough healing potions to resurrect half the population of Hogwarts, but he made no move to use them. He was so very tired, and the darkness that rose up to wrap around him offered rest at last. The darkness surrounded and cradled him, offering him comfort and peace. He didn't resist it. This whole year had been a battle from the moment his eyes opened each day, until he collapsed unconscious into bed each night. Quite simply, Severus didn't have any fight left.

When Severus opened his eyes again, he was standing in a place that looked strangely like King's Cross Station, though shrouded in misty white light. In the distance he could see the vague shapes of others but his attention was captured by a train that drew up to the platform he was waiting on. It was like the Hogwarts Express, but it was a thing made of gleaming white and gold. In his heart he knew this was his train. Standing at the top of the steps, was a familiar face. The very image of his best friend at fifteen, before he'd destroyed their friendship in a moment of vicious anger.

"Lily," he whispered, reaching out accepting the hand she offered to help him up. As their hands touched something seemed to melt away from him and he felt lighter, happier than he had in a very long time.

"I've been waiting for you, Sev." She smiled warmly, pulling him up. "I've got a compartment waiting, just for us."

"How is this possible?" he asked, as they walked down the train and into an empty compartment.

"There's always a place on the train for those that deserve it," Lily said. "You've been so brave Sev, and you kept your promise. You might have had to lie to the whole world to do it, but you kept it." She reached out and placed her hand over his heart. "You always kept your truth here, and that's what matters."

Severus put a hand over hers, and smiled. He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass of the window and it was his fifteen year-old self that stared back at him. "Is that what the after-life is? A second chance?" he asked.

"For those that deserve it; yes," Lily answered, emerald eyes shining with emotion.

Together the two friends rode their train onwards, leaving the pain, suffering, and deceptions of the world behind them. Finally, all was well.

~Fin~


	60. The Child

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Gideon Prewett / Word Count: 611**

 **Set Early December, 1979. AU.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Gideon tucked the baby under his cloak, walking away from the raging inferno that had been the Dolohov home. Fabian had gone to report the incident to Dumbledore, but Gideon knew he had to take care of this little one. A twist of guilt in his gut nagged at him, but her parents had been dark and this sweet, innocent, little baby needed to grow up away from all of that. It would be better for her to grow up with parents that loved her, and to never know what kind of a monster her father was. In his mind, Gideon justified it as saving the baby girl from falling into darkness the way both her parents had.

He apparated to a park and sat down on the nearest bench, a warming charm protecting them from the bitter December cold. At this time of the night the park was silent and still. A subtle movement of his wand and a fox patronus appeared, flicking its tail. "Tell Benjy Fenwick I have the package in Hampstead Heath, the usual place," he instructed it, and then the ghostly creature bounded off into the night.

His warm brown eyes looked down at the baby in his arms, and he was confident Benjy would know what to do with her. His mother was muggle-born and lived nearby. Hopefully she'd know of a family they could place the little one with. Dolohov needed to believe that she had died in the fire with her mother, and to do that she needed to be placed well away from the magical world. The Dark Lord's influence grew with every child born to his followers: removing even one of those children was an important step.

A short while later, a figure appeared with a crack and Gideon palmed his wand, being cautious.

"Gideon?" Benjy's familiar voice called.

"Here." He stood, careful not to jostle the little girl. "This is the baby."

"Mum knows a family, they were looking into adoption…but a few well-placed memory charms and they'll think that she's theirs," he said, carefully taking the infant from Gideon's arms. "They're good people, and they'll take good care of the little one."

"Your mum's sure she'll be okay there?" Gideon asked, a bit of worry nagging at him.

"Yeah, mum lives a few doors down and can keep an eye on her. They're muggle tooth healers, and they'll absolutely adore her. She'll never want for anything, Gideon," he promised, knowing Gideon had a soft spot for kids.

"What are their names?" he asked, knowing that it was likely better that he didn't know, but it didn't feel right sending the baby off without knowing who had custody of her. He and his brother were responsible for taking her away from her parents, even if they were Death Eater scum.

"George and Jean Granger," Benjy said, rocking the baby a little as she started to stir in his arms. "You did the right thing Gideon. She's better off with them."

"You'd better go, before she wakes up and starts crying for her mum," Gideon said, and with a heavy heart he turned and apparated away. Fabian hadn't turned a hair after killing Anna Dolohov, but Gideon had stood over her fallen body and couldn't help but question what they'd all become, killing a new mother in her home, taking her child, and burning the house to the ground so that her husband would think they'd both perished. A little voice in the back of his head whispered that there would be a price to pay for their deeds this night, and he only hoped they survived whatever it was.

~Fin~


	61. Prince Charming

**Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Sleeping / Word Count: 1355**

 **AU, set about five years after Deathly Hallows.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Hermione watched as the two medi-witches settled Harry into his bed at Grimmauld Place. Harry's expression was peaceful as he lay there, looking for all the world like he was just asleep and could wake at any moment. She felt so incredibly helpless right now. It had been three weeks since her best friend had been struck by a stray curse while conducting a raid for the Auror's office, and there was no improvement. St. Mungo's had identified it as a variant of the Sleeping Beauty curse, a much more deadly variant. Like any other Sleeping Beauty curse, the kiss from the victim's true love would awaken them, but unlike the common curse, this variant was known to kill within four weeks if not broken.

Pretty much every girl with a pulse had been marched through Harry's hospital room, hoping to have the magic kiss that would free the Savior of the Wizarding World from his pervasive coma. Hermione had even given it a go, trying to ignore the odd sensation of kissing someone she regarded as a brother. After his split from Ginny last year, Harry had asked Hermione to be his official next of kin and left instructions that in the event he was incapacitated she would have final say over his care. After three weeks and no progress at the hospital, Hermione decided to remove him to the privacy of his own home.

"He's all set, Miss Granger. Are you sure you don't want to have a nurse on duty?" The senior medi-witch asked as they finished making him comfortable.

"No, I'll tend to him myself. Thank you for everything you've done for him. I know Harry would appreciate it," Hermione said kindly and walked them out. She had one last thing to try, but she wouldn't allow Harry's privacy to be violated by anyone witnessing this last attempt. Once they were gone, Hermione adjusted the wards, closing them to anyone until she returned.

"Kreacher," she called, and when the old elf appeared, she nodded to him. They had established a somewhat tentative understanding since they end of the war. He respected that she had helped fulfill his Master Regulus' last wishes, and so he tolerated her. "Please watch over Harry until I return."

"Yes Miss," he croaked and popped out of view.

Hermione slipped outside and apparated to the gate in front of Malfoy Manor. She hadn't been back here since she'd been tortured by Bellatrix during the war, and couldn't help the thread of panic that crept through her. She reached for the pull cord and waited for someone to come and let her inside. Harry was depending on her, and she knew in her gut that this had a chance of working.

Draco was the one that came down to the gate. He frowned as he reached her. "Granger?"

"I need to talk to you. Please Malfoy, it's important," Hermione insisted.

The blonde looked dubious but nodded. An elegant motion of his hand and the gate opened allowing her inside. "We don't get many visitors these days," he said as they walked together up the crushed limestone path. "What brings you here, Granger?"

"Harry. You've heard about what happened to him on the Baxter raid?" she asked, eyes taking in the perfectly manicured lawns and albino peacocks moving in groups around the hedges.

"Yes. The papers were pretty tight-lipped, but the word is that he was cursed, and they haven't been able to reverse it." A shadow passed across his handsome features.

"He was struck with a Sleeping Beauty curse, the darkest variant possible." She stopped, feeling tears sting her eyes.

"It's been three weeks." Draco looked at her face. "You're telling me that he'll be dead in a week! What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hunting up all his old girlfriends?" He gestured wildly, clearly shocked.

"Pretty much every witch with a pulse has tried their luck," Hermione said, the sheer desperation in Draco's gray eyes confirming her suspicions. "I've moved him home, but I'm hoping that you might be willing to come and try."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" His face was suddenly unreadable.

"I'm not an idiot Malfoy. There's always been something between the two of you. Please, he's like my brother, and I don't know what else to do." She reached out and grabbed his arm.

"You don't know what you're asking," he said quietly, looking down at the ground.

"I'm asking you to save his life. He saved yours. Why won't you just try? It's only a kiss." She didn't understand what the problem was.

Draco let out a harsh bark of laughter, and he shook his head. "I'll try, but don't say I didn't warn you." He ran a hand through his short, platinum blonde hair.

"Then come back with me now, please," she said, hating that she was begging, but for Harry she would.

"Might as well get this over with," Draco said and straightened, his expression stony. "Mips," he called, and a little House Elf appeared. "Tell my mother that I've gone out," he said and turned on his heel, walking quickly back towards the gate. "Coming Granger?"

Hermione swore under her breath about arrogant, blonde prats, and almost had to run to catch up with him.

o.o.O.o.o

Draco entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He went and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Potter. His face was relaxed and almost serene; it was not an expression Draco was accustomed to seeing on the other wizard's face. They'd always had an antagonistic relationship, from their very first meeting at Madam Malkin's the summer before their first year. It had only escalated after they'd been sorted into rival houses. At their worst, Potter had nearly killed him, and at the best he'd saved Draco's life.

He hated to admit it, but Granger was right; he did have feelings for Potter. He wasn't exactly sure when it had shifted from rivalry to attraction, but it had. He swallowed and reached out, smoothing a bit of hair back off Potter's forehead. He'd never have said anything, and he was pretty sure Potter didn't feel the same, but if it would save his life…he could do this.

"If you wake up and hex me for this, Potter…I'm going to strangle that jumped up mudblood," he muttered and leaned down, hesitating over Potter's sleeping form. What Granger had clearly missed in her research was that this damned variant of the curse had lasting effects, even after the victim had been released from its grip. Whoever woke the victim was bound to them, a bond as deep and permanent as a traditional marriage bond. His parents were going to murder him. "You better appreciate this, Scarhead," he whispered and closed the final distance, pressing a kiss to Potter's lips.

At first there was nothing, just the steady rise and fall of Harry's sleeping chest. A warmth blossomed between their lips, a golden glow encompassing the two wizards. As Draco moved back, he saw Harry's eyelashes start to flutter. Brilliant green eyes, almost the same shade as a killing curse, opened and focused on him. There was no animosity in his gaze, just confusion.

"Malfoy?" Harry said, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Good to see you finally awake, Potter. You had everyone worried." Draco sat back, and went to pour him some water. "You were cursed, you've been asleep for three weeks."

"No offence, but what are you doing here?" Harry asked, feeling weak as a kitten. He managed to struggle up to sit against the headboard and accepted the glass of water.

"It was a Sleeping Beauty Curse…looks like I'm your Prince Charming." Draco couldn't help but smirk at the stunned expression on Potter's face, and he had to reach out to keep Harry from dumping the water all down the front of his pajamas. "You know, if you really wanted a snog…you could have just asked." He winked, unable to help himself. The punch that followed was completely worth it.

~Fin~


	62. A Proper Lesson

A/N: Written for the House Points Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Ice Skating / Word Count: 486

Set over the Christmas Break of Andromeda Black's 7th year at Hogwarts. Canon Compliant.

o.o.O.o.o

"Are you sure about this? It doesn't seem very safe." Andromeda frowned at Ted as he guided her out into the middle of the ice, holding her hands.

"Don't you trust me Andy?" He grinned at her. "Muggles do it all the time, it's perfectly safe."

Andromeda bit her lip and tried to relax, using the edges of the skates to push off like he showed her. She'd gotten 'Cissa to cover for her tonight, telling their mother that she had a horrible headache and needed to go and lay down. She'd shimmied down the trellis outside her bedroom window, and caught a cab to Hyde Park. It was just before ten o'clock, and Ted had been waiting for her with ice-skates and hot chocolate.

"Besides, you know I'd never let you fall," he whispered into her ear, as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Andromeda blushed furiously. "Ted…" She gave him an exasperated look.

"I hate this sneaking around. I want everyone to know how much I adore you." He stopped them in the middle of the rink and touched her cheek.

"I know. I want that too, but with my family it's complicated." She sighed and rested her hands on his chest. "I will tell them, I just need to find the right time," she tried to reassure him. Telling her family was going to need to be timed just right, and hopefully in a place where she could apparate out of in a hurry. She knew they'd disown her, so she was quietly putting money away and had secretly opened her own vault at Gringott's last summer.

"I know." He dropped a kiss down onto the top of her head, pulling her in close. "I'm a patient wizard, I can wait." He hugged her tightly.

Andromeda smiled and buried her face into his sweater for a long moment before pulling back. "Ok, we're not doing much skating, and I believe you promised me a proper lesson." She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, putting on her pureblood princess expression.

Ted laughed and bowed playfully. "Forgive me, Miss Black…how remiss of me." He teased and took her hand again. "Now remember to keep your weight over the main part of the blade, don't drop your toes or the toe-pick will catch in the ice," he instructed, and soon they were gliding together around the rink together in perfect harmony.

"Ted…do you love me?" She asked suddenly, and she had to cover her mouth with her hands to stifle the peals of laughter as he tripped and fell flat on his face. "Are you ok?"

He flushed with embarrassment. "I'm fine." He looked up at her. "Of course I love, you silly witch. I've always loved you."

Andy knew in that moment that no matter what happened with her family, things would be ok because she'd have Ted. He was all she needed.


	63. The Right Dress

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story / Prompts: Dress Shopping & Mrs. Granger [Hermione's mother] / Word Count: 847**

 **This could fit into Canon in the summer between Hermione's 3** **rd** ** & 4** **th** **year. We're never told Mrs. Granger's first name, but for the purpose of this story it will be Jean.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Jean Granger was secretly thrilled, and endeavoring to hide her triumphant glee. When she'd been pregnant with Hermione, her mind had naturally wandered down the path of pretty pink bows, and frilly dresses. Reality, however, had given her a daughter far happier in jeans and an old jumper than anything with a skirt. Her daughter's two best friends were boys, who at least for the moment seemed oblivious to the fact that Hermione was in fact a girl and treated her with the same friendly camaraderie they did all their male friends. While she was eternally grateful her daughter was not obsessed with fashion or her appearance, a smaller part of her wished that she was more willing to go on outings like this. Her daughter's school list had mentioned that she needed a set of 'dress robes', which her daughter had then informed her meant a dress. Not just any dress either, a formal dress for some kind of special event.

She was sitting in an upscale boutique in London, waiting for Hermione to come out of the dressing room. They'd been to two other shops already and hadn't found anything that seemed just right. Jean had asked her daughter to order a subscription to Witch Weekly, and after studying the society photographs, she felt she had a fairly good idea of what kind of dress her daughter needed. They had also stopped at the jewelry store and she'd spoiled her daughter with some exquisite hair pins, a diamond and sapphire necklace, and matching earrings. She'd waited Hermione's whole life for an excuse to doll her up, and she refused to spare any expense.

"Mum, I look ridiculous!" Hermione called through the door.

"I'll be the judge of that, come on out." Jean smirked a little as her daughter came out in a dark purple dress that even she had to admit was not the best choice.

Hermione walked out and stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed defensively over her stomach. "It's too low cut, I can't wear this…"

"No, it's far too mature for you. Will you please just try the blue gown?" Jean had been advocating for it since they had entered the shop.

"Fine." She sighed and went back to the change room.

"How is she making out?" The clerk came over, unable to keep from smiling.

"We're getting there. Dress shopping is not really her thing." Jean chuckled.

"I have a daughter who used to be exactly the same, once they hit about sixteen that can change quickly though." The woman winked. "Just let me know if you need any more help."

"I will, thank…." she stopped as Hermione emerged in the beautiful periwinkle-blue gown her mother had chosen. The floaty, diaphanous layers made her look taller, and while the neckline was modest it hinted at the curves she was just starting to have. "Oh honey, you look beautiful," she said.

"She certainly does. Blue is definitely your colour my dear," the clerk said. "Would you like me to see if I have some flats that will match?"

Jean nodded, smiling as Hermione was silently looking at herself in the mirror. "What do you think?" She stood and went over, standing beside her not-so-little girl.

"It's really pretty," Hermione said quietly.

" _ **You**_ are really pretty," Jean said firmly. "The right dress just helps everyone else to see it too. I was wearing a blue dress the first time I met your father," she told her.

Hermione blushed a little. "I doubt I'll be meeting my future husband in this dress, mum." She rolled her eyes a little. "But I do like it."

"Then I think we'd better get it, don't you?" She raised her eyebrows.

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I think so."

"And these should match the dress just about perfectly. They're not quite flats, but I think you should be able to manage in them well enough." The clerk came over with a shoebox. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, were a pair of kitten-heeled shoes in the exact same shade as the dress.

Hermione tried them on, a bit uncomfortable up on her toes, but she liked how they added a tiny bit of height. "They're perfect," she said.

"Practice walking in them a fair bit before the event, or your feet will be killing you by the end of the evening," the clerk advised the teenage girl.

"I will," Hermione promised.

"Ok, go and get changed love, and I'll get the bill all settled," Jean said and shooed her off. As she watched Hermione walk away timidly on the heels, Jean realized with a blow that her little girl was growing up. She'd be fifteen this year, and in a few short years she'd be an adult and finished with school, going out into the world to make her mark. It was selfish, but Jean wished desperately for time to just stand still for a little longer, to let her have these little moments before she lost her daughter to her new world forever. Just a little more time.

~Fin


	64. Fisticuffs and Chocolate Fudge

**A/N: Written for Round 4 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Happy Family] / Prompt: Cookies / Word Count: 2213**

 **Set in the same universe as my WIP 'What Worth A Life'. AU – After the Battle of Hogwarts Hermione goes into politics, marries a widowed Lucius Malfoy, and becomes Minister for Magic. Story is set approximately 16 years after the Battle of Hogwarts.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

As Lysander got off the Hogwarts Express at King's cross, he spotted his parents waiting for him. He knew there would be questions about his black eye and bloody lip, and he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say. So far he'd managed to keep his fights at school and in situations where the Professors would never catch word of it, but today Mark McDougall had gone too far. No one called his mother a name like that and walk away unscathed. He took a deep breath and lifted his chin, dragging his trunk behind him.

His mother rushed over and was about to make a fuss over him when his father placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down, whispering something to her. It was hard not to smirk at the annoyed expression she gave his father in return, but Lysander was grateful that she didn't make a scene. He accepted a slightly restrained hug from his mother.

"You will tell me all about this once we get home," Hermione Granger-Malfoy whispered into her son's ear. Her tone was distinctly unimpressed.

"Yes mother," he said quietly, grey eyes dropping down to the wooden platform.

"Let's be going, I'm certain your sister will be eager to see you," Lucius said, wrapping his arm around his son's slightly hunched shoulders and apparated him directly to the front doors of Malfoy Manor. Half a heart-beat later, Hermione appeared with a crack beside them, a hand on the handle of her son's school trunk.

"Inside right now, young man! Let me just fetch some murtlap for that eye and dittany for your lip, and then you can explain yourself." She gave her son a rather disappointed look and headed into the house, heels clicking over the polished marble tiles as she headed to fetch her healing kit from the potions room.

"We'll be in my study, darling," Lucius called after her, and steered his son across the foyer. "What have I told you about fighting, Lysander?" he asked as they headed into the study, and he settled his son into the chair in front of his desk.

"To only do it for the right reasons, and only if you know you can win without getting caught," Lysander replied, swallowing and trying his best to look more mature than his 13 years would suggest.

"I trust the other person was worse off?" Lucius arched an eyebrow.

"Yes Sir." He nodded. "No one talks about my mother like that." A little bit of steel flashed through his young grey eyes.

"Good lad." Lucius clapped him on the shoulder. "Let your mother fuss, you know how she worries about you." He winked.

"Yes Sir." Lysander gave his father a little smile in return, glad at least that one of his parents understood the challenges of being a half-blood Malfoy.

"I might even persuaded Pim to make some of those double chocolate fudge cookies you adore so much," Lucius said, looking up as his wife hurried into the study. He quickly schooled his features, looking every bit the stern disciplinarian everyone expected him to be.

"What were you thinking, getting into a fist fight? What if a Prefect had caught you?" Hermione said. "How many times have I told you that violence doesn't solve anything, use your words!" she scolded him as she gently applied bruise paste to the rather impressive black eye he had coming up. She soaked a square of gauze in essence of dittany and had him press it to his lip. "Please tell me it wasn't the MacDougall boy again?"

Lysander looked down, attempting to appear contrite. "He started it mum, honest," he said.

"I don't care who started it, Lysander Lucius Malfoy. You're old enough to know when to walk away." She frowned at him. She'd had three owls from Mrs. MacDougall this year, complaining that Lysander and his friends were picking on her son. She'd promised to look into it, and she was completely disappointed to find that it was actually true.

"Perhaps you should allow the boy to tell his side of the story?" Lucius said, tone ever so reasonable. He mentally applauded his son for managing not to talk back to his mother, but if he had been defending his mother's honour so to speak, he saw little wrong with the boy getting into a fight. It was a worthy cause.

Hermione frowned but nodded, giving her son an expectant look. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Unsaid was that it had better be a damned good explanation.

"He and his stupid Gryffindork friends keep saying really foul things about you, and today on the train he called you a filthy mudblood traitor…and I couldn't walk away from that. I don't care what he says about me, but no one gets to talk about you," he said, a stubborn set to his jaw and looking every inch his father's son.

"Remind me dear…whose nose did you break in third year?" Lucius smirked a little as his wife blushed a little in embarrassment.

Hermione cleared her throat and gave them both exasperated looks. She knelt down and took both of her son's hands in hers, making him meet her eyes. "There are lots of people who like to think they have a right to judge me and your father because of our choices. There's nothing we can do about that, and while I love that you wanted to stand up for me…I don't want you getting into any more fights on my account. You're at school to learn, and have fun, not to fight my battles for me. Ok?" she said.

"Yes mum," he replied. "I'll try not to get into trouble again." He didn't promise it wouldn't happen, but he would _try._

"Ok." She stood and hugged him tightly. "I love you Lys, and I'm so glad you're home."

He returned the hug, letting himself cling to her tighter than he usually dared. "I love you too, mum," he whispered into her shoulder.

"All right, go and find your sister. I believe she's in the kitchen with Pim and Itsy trying to help make cookies for you." Hermione had caught a glimpse of her chocolate-covered daughter on her way to get the healing kit.

He stood and smiled. "Thanks mum, and I'm sorry I worried you," he said as he darted off to go and get some cookies fresh from the oven. He could practically taste them.

Lucius held a hand out to his wife, chuckling a little. "Boys will be boys, my dear," he said and pulled her over into his arms. He pressed a kiss to temple, smelling the vanilla from her shampoo. "Try not to worry too much. I got into my fair share of scraps in school."

"I just hate that he has to hear that word…because of me." She sighed and relaxed into his arms, letting go of her stern 'Minister of Magic' persona. She loved her job, she truly did, but sometimes it was nice to just be Hermione, wife and mother. The hours she worked left precious little time for baking cookies and healing scraped knees, and she was still sometimes shocked to come home and find Lucius curled up in the library with Celia on his lap and a plate of half-eaten chocolate chip cookies beside them.

"There will always be narrow-minded, cruel children…I used to be one of them. The wonderful thing is, eventually we grow up." He kissed her hair again. "Come, let's go and rescue our Elves from sugar-crazed children." He took her by the hand.

"What will you do with yourself once Celia goes off to school in two years?" she asked, reaching up to unclip her hair from a long day at the office.

"I may see about getting back onto the Board of Governors, or perhaps look into founding that wizarding orphanage that we've discussed off and on for the last four years. I'll find ways to fill my days, never fear." He chuckled. She was as different from his first wife as night was from day, but he wouldn't change a single thing about his fearless lioness. She was dragging their family's reputation out of the shadows, kicking and screaming at times, and he loved every minute of it.

"Minerva may retire if you get back onto the Board." Hermione laughed and then she stopped dead as they walked into the kitchen, which was quite the sight. She had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from howling with laughter.

Lysander was covered in melted chocolate, a ceramic mixing bowl overturned onto his head, and the chocolate positively dripping off his blonde curls. Pim was splattered in whipped cream, and Itsy was wringing her hands in a worried manner, while Celia stood in the middle of the chaos scowling at her brother. She had only the tiniest, little smudge of chocolate on the end of her nose. Little purple sparks were dancing off her curls.

"And what, pray tell, is going on here?" Lucius' smooth voice cut through the heavy silence.

"He stole my cookie dough!" Celia said, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

"And in retaliation you dumped the chocolate fudge over his head?" Lucius said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the word.

"NO! I threw an egg at him, so Lys put fudge ON MY NOSE!" She glared. "Then I dumped the fudge on him."

"Ah, I see," Lucius said and the very corner of his mouth twitched as if he too were trying desperately hard not to laugh. "However provoked you might have been, such behaviour is most unbefitting a young lady," he said. "Upstairs to you room, no cookies for you tonight."

"But father…." she whined.

"Now." He motioned with his hand.

She stomped her foot and left the kitchen, looking as if she found the whole thing terribly unfair.

Hermione quickly flicked a silencing ward up, then collapsed in a fit of laughter as her husband went over to rescue Lysander. Luckily, it seemed that her son was just as amused as she was. He scooped a finger through the fudge on his face and sucked it off.

"Pim, this is delicious." He grinned.

"Thank you, young master," she said, trying to clean the incredible mess all over the kitchen.

Lucius chuckled and took out his wand, flicking it over his son and the rest of the kitchen. _"Scourgify,"_ he said and within seconds the whole sordid mess was gone. "Pim, I trust you can finish the next batch of cookies unaided?"

"Yes master." The elf said and hurried along to start a fresh batch. Itsy meanwhile pulled the first trays out of the oven and set them to cool.

Lysander snuck a few off the pan. "I'm going to go and get unpacked and changed before dinner," he said to his parents and carefully tucked a few more cookies into his pocket before heading upstairs.

It didn't take long to put his books away neatly on his bookcase, and he left his clothes out for Pim to take and launder later. He grabbed a shower and changed into a pair of faded jeans and his favourite Falmouth Falcons T-shirt before grabbing the extra cookies and heading off towards his sister's room. Celia would be joining him at Hogwarts in another couple years, and he knew she was getting impatient. He knocked a little pattern on her door, then popped his head in.

"Hey Celia, peace?" He showed her the cookies.

She gave him a little smile. "Thanks Lys…I'm sorry I dumped the fudge over your head."

"I'm a prat, I deserved it," he said and went into her room, flopping down on the bed and surrendering the cookies. "So, tell me true little sis, how much did you miss me?"

"Lots, it's so boring here without you." She sighed. "Can we go flying tomorrow? Please?" She gave him a hopeful look.

"You bet," he promised. "Gotta start getting you in shape if you're going to make the House team one day." Lysander had actually managed to make the team this year, and was one of the Chasers. His sister though, with her aim…he just knew she was going to be a beater.

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts," she sighed and nibbled on one of the cookies.

"It's going to be great." Lysander agreed. They'd rule Slytherin together, just like their father had back in his day. He still had his challenges there, but given another full year he'd solidify his position so that Celia could slide in without a ripple. A cookie bounced off his temple, and startled him from his thoughts. "Hey!"

"Stop thinking so hard," Celia said, smirking at him. "Come on…dinner should be just about ready." She hopped off the bed and brushed the cookie crumbs off her dress, not wanting their parents to see the evidence.

Lysander laughed a bit and got up. She was right, it was finally summer and he could worry about plotting his takeover of Slytherin later. It was time to relax, fly his broom, and eat as many cookies as he could sneak out of the kitchen.

~Fin~


	65. Something to Think About

**A/N: Written for Round 4 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: [First Line] To my (fill in the blank), I leave… / Word Count: 454**

 **Italics indicate written text, Slight AU, but could fit into Canon.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 _To my best student, I leave all my worldly possessions. Miss Granger, you gave everything to this war and I hope this helps you to rebuild your life, free of obligations to anyone. Think beyond the things you read and what you're told. You have an incredible mind, if only you could free it from the narrow confines you shackle it in. I know the dangers and loneliness of true brilliance, and now you do as well._

As wills went, it was heartbreakingly short. Hermione had been invited to the reading of Professor Snape's will a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Goblins had been compensated for the damages to Gringotts, but it was clear that she'd be watched carefully whenever she stepped foot into the wizarding bank. The goblins informed her that she had inherited Professor Snape's personal vault containing the sum of nearly 900,000 galleons, a small home in Cokeworth, a cottage in the Hebrides, as well as three trunks containing books and personal effects that had been stored in the Headmaster's Tower of Hogwarts.

She didn't understand why he'd left it all to her, and a strange sense of responsibility settled over Hermione with the realization that he was entrusting his life's work to her. In the privacy of her bedroom, she enlarged the trunks and started going through them. In one of the trunks, she discovered a stack of black leather journals; there must have been nearly twenty of them. As she began to read, every belief she'd ever had about the dour potions master melted away.

Contained in the journals were his experiences, observations, and his own personal research. In the earliest journals, dated from his fifth year of school onwards, tears flowed freely down her face as she read about the death of his friendship with Lily Evans. The entries talking about his induction into the Death Eaters filled her with horrified fascination, and the tale that unfolded from there was long and dark.

Kreacher brought her meals to her room as she devoured the journals, and it took Hermione nearly three full days to read through everything. When she finally finished the very last page, she laid back on the bed and tried to absorb the entirety of it all. She'd need to re-read them again to truly comprehend the full scope of it, but in that moment Hermione felt nothing but awe. The one man they'd always dismissed as incapable of love, bravery, and emotion, had felt deeper and more fully than any of them could ever imagine. Severus Snape had always screamed at her to think, and with his final will and testament, he had given her so much to think about.


	66. A Proposal

**A/N: Written for Round 4 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed / Prompts: A Proposal & Refusing / Word Count: 2137**

 **AU- Post war.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Draco was sitting off to the side, sipping a glass of lemonade and watching his girlfriend float around the small party in the backyard of her parent's muggle home. With the help of Professor Snape, she had been able to reverse the memory charm she'd used to protect them during the war, and now they were back in London. Hermione had planned a lavish welcome home party for them and invited their friends and work colleagues. Hermione had insisted that Draco come and bring his parents, refusing to take no for an answer.

They'd been dating for nearly a year now, and his father was slowly coming around to the idea that he was in fact serious about Hermione. For a while his father had been convinced that she was merely an 'itch he needed to scratch', but last week he'd put those ideas to rest. He'd asked his father to go with him to the family vault to find a ring. His mother had been strangely supportive of the relationship, though Draco guessed that it was because she knew that Hermione was exactly what they needed to repair the tainted Malfoy name in the wizarding world. She was the darling of the Ministry right now, riding high off her newly passed piece of legislation granting rights and protections for werewolves, the so called 'Lupin's Law'.

There was something to be said for sitting on the sidelines and just observing everything. A part of Draco deeply envied the casual intimacy that Hermione shared with her parents. Her father thought nothing of wrapping an arm around her and dropping a kiss on the crown of her head as he spoke with his business associates. It was the kind of relationship he hoped to have one day with his children, children that he'd been thinking about all too much lately. They'd have two, a boy and a girl, and they would spoil them horribly. Hermione would continue with her career in the Ministry, and Draco would start assuming some of the business responsibilities from his father.

He could see it all in his mind's eye, laid out perfectly before him. He caught Hermione's gaze and started walking across the yard. They'd never really talked about marriage before, but they'd been dating for a year and it was expected that they'd make things official soon. A little twinge of fear twisted in his gut though, what if she said no? What if she was still secretly pining for Weasel-Bee and just using him to make the ginger git jealous? He wasn't a complete idiot and knew their first few dates had been just that, a way to get one back on Ron for his humiliation of her with Lavender Brown. He'd agreed, refusing to pass up his chance with the brilliant witch for a little matter of principal.

All of the worries and insecurities suddenly hit him like a wave, catching in his throat and making him want to flee the happy atmosphere. He jumped nearly a foot in the air as Mr. Granger clapped him on the shoulder.

"Alright there son?" The muggle asked.

"I…." Draco stammered.

"Come with me a minute, Hermione's not going anywhere." George Granger steered the young wizard his daughter had been dating off to the side. The man was perhaps a little older than Draco's father, but had a warm expression on his face. "You have the look of a young man who has an important question to ask."

Draco flushed and nodded. "I do," he said and carefully pulled the small blue ring box out of his pocket. "I should have asked your permission first," he admitted guiltily.

"While I appreciate the thought, Draco, the only person whose permission you need is Hermione's." George smiled. "You've been good for her, and nothing would make me happier than to see the two of you make a life together. Do you love her?" he asked.

Draco's grey eyes travelled across the yard, watching Hermione talking to his mother and a few other ladies. She looked…beautiful. The sun played off the gold highlights in her hair, and she'd left her curls loose today. The pretty yellow sundress she wore clung to her curves and yet was undeniably modest. He felt himself nod. "More than anything, sir."

"Then you don't have anything to worry about. Deep breath and off you go, lad." George smiled a little, trying to encourage him.

Draco swallowed nervously and headed over towards the small cluster of women. He caught his mother's eye and was reassured by the little smile she gave him. "Hermione?" he said, hoping she didn't hear the tremor in his voice.

Hermione turned and a brilliant smile lit her face. "Draco! Where have you been?" she asked.

"I…well you see…" he stumbled over his words a bit until he caught sight of his father out of the corner of his eye. His father was now standing beside George Granger and he gave his son a very slight nod. Draco took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a Malfoy. A Malfoy asked for what he wanted, refusing to admit defeat. He took her left hand in his and went down to one knee, looking boldly into her eyes. "Hermione, would you do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife?" he asked.

Hermione stared at him, utterly shocked and for the first time speechless. It took her a moment and she nodded. "Draco…yes," she whispered softly, tears shining in her eyes. "Yes, I'll marry you," she said a little more confidently. Refusing his proposal never even crossed her mind.

Draco mentally thanked Merlin that he hadn't just humiliated himself in front of both their families, and bloody Potter. He took out the ring, a beautiful blue diamond surrounded with small clear diamonds, and slipped it onto her ring finger. "I love you," he said sincerely and stood, stealing a kiss to the applause of the party.

Narcissa moved forward and kissed her son on the cheek, whispering very quietly in his ear. "Well done, Draco." She then hugged Hermione warmly and kissed her cheek. "Congratulations." She said sincerely and moved back while Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter and gave Draco a kiss on the cheek as well.

"I'm so happy for you two." Jean said, wiping tears away.

George Granger came over and shook Draco's hand. "Welcome to the family, son." George nodded and kept an eye on the blonde wizard that approached them all. Everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath, certain he'd refuse to give his blessing to the engagement.

Lucius Malfoy came over and gave his son a small, genuine smile. "Congratulations Draco, I believe you will both be very happy." He turned to Hermione and leaned down, kissing her cheek. "I wish you luck, keeping my son in line." He chuckled a little.

Hermione returned the small peck on the cheek. "I'm sure your wife can give me some pointers on keeping Malfoy men out of trouble." Mischief danced in her eyes as she said it.

Narcissa's laughter rang through the backyard. "Oh my dear, I'll be giving you the manual."

o.o.O.o.o

"Papa, why do we always come to Grandma and Grandpa Grangers on July 10th?" Sofia looked up at her father.

"Because, eleven years ago, your Grandma and Grandpa held a lovely party here and I proposed to your mother. Every year since we've had a family party, to celebrate it." Draco said, picking up his ten year old daughter and settling her into his lap. Sofia would be off to Hogwarts in another year, but for now, Draco intended to enjoy having their whole family together. Hermione was cradling the newest Malfoy in her arms, chatting happily with Jean and Narcissa. They were fussing over Hermione's son endlessly.

He nodded to his father as Lucius came over to sit down with them. "Sofia, why aren't you playing with your sisters?" Lucius asked.

"They're playing with blocks, blocks are for babies." Sofia made a face, flatly refusing to go over to the sandbox and join Portia and Selene.

Draco repressed the urge to chuckle. "Well, you're certainly not a baby. Why don't you go and join Grandma Jean and Grandma 'Cissa?" he suggested. "I think if you ask nicely, I can't imagine Grandma Jean refusing to let you try one of her raspberry tarts." He winked.

Sofia's face brightened and she kissed her father on the cheek. "Ok!" She hopped off his lap and headed over to her Grandmothers.

"I was starting to think I'd never have a grandson." Lucius teased his son. Hermione had given birth to their fourth child last month, the first boy.

Draco chuckled. "Don't even try and pretend you don't adore your granddaughters." He gave his father a look. The Elder Lord Malfoy pretended to be buttoned-up and proper all the time, but more often than not you could find him playing in the garden with his three rambunctious granddaughters teaching them to fly brooms, or sneaking them into the kitchens for sweets.

Lucius chuckled, not denying it. "I know that I don't often say it Draco, but I am proud of you," he said quietly, sipping the lemonade that his daughter-in-law always served at this event. What had started as a party for friends of the Grangers, had evolved into a family only event for the Grangers and Malfoys. For muggles they were…tolerable, he supposed. "You never did anything so good as convincing that witch to marry you."

Draco looked stunned for a moment before he recovered his composure. "You know you've never said that, not once since we've been married," he said quietly.

"I should have. I had my reservations about Hermione, and not purely because of her blood," Lucius held up a hand to forestall the inevitable argument. "I have my beliefs Draco, and they are unlikely to change, that is not what I wanted to say." Lucius took a deep breath. "I was unsure that you'd be compatible long term, as she is a forceful young woman with strong ideals and goals. I wasn't convinced that those goals would fit into a life with you, as the next Lady Malfoy. I was worried she would break your heart, son," Lucius admitted softly. "I've never been so happy to be wrong."

Draco was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the fact that his father had actually admitted he'd been wrong. He nodded quietly. "She makes me a better man, and you didn't raise me to buckle under father…I can be forceful too when I believe in something."

"Yes you can." He'd seen it clearly the night Draco had come to him asking for one of the family engagement rings. He'd attempted to talk him out of his plan to ask Miss Granger to marry him, and his son had held his ground for the first time. "The night you asked for the ring was the first time you'd come to me, not as a boy asking for permission, but as a man telling me what you were going to do. I knew then, that regardless of my concerns, she'd at least turned you into the man I'd always hoped you'd be."

"Thank you, father. It means a lot to hear you say that." He swallowed thickly. He'd wanted his father's approval for his entire childhood and a good portion of his adult life. In marrying Hermione, he'd almost given up hope that he'd ever manage to please him, never mind get him to admit it. Never in a million years would he have thought his father secretly approved of Hermione. Sure, his father was always polite to his wife, but there was none of the warmth and ease that Hermione shared with her parents or even with his mother.

"I can say it now because you no longer need my approval, Draco," Lucius said and stood, heading over to where his daughter-in-law was gently rocking his grandson, Lucien Draco Malfoy.

"Lucius, do you mind? He spit up all over my dress," Hermione said and handed her son off to him.

Lucius chuckled. "You know that I never mind, my dear." He cradled the baby carefully. "You shouldn't ever mess with a witch's dress, Lucien…they're capricious creatures." He winked at baby.

Narcissa snorted. "Don't you dare corrupt him, Lucius…it's bad enough Hermione insisted on naming him after you."

"I'm hardly corrupting him, just imparting an important life lesson. After all, that's what grandfathers are for." Lucius chuckled, sharing a look with George Granger. It was strange to consider the two muggles family, but over the years that is exactly what they had become. Stranger things had happened, but if you asked Lucius Malfoy, he'd be hard pressed to name one.

~Fin.


	67. Hunter in the Snow

**A/N: Written for Round 5 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Snow Storm / Word Count: 456**

 **AU**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

The snowstorm was raging furiously, but Scabior pressed on. The rest of the Snatchers had given up the hunt, claiming a need to get out of the storm…bunch of bleeding ponces, the whole ruddy lot. He paused for a moment, resting against tree and recasting the warming charm on his clothes. He couldn't give up now; he could feel her like an itch under his skin, always just out of reach. He'd been hunting the little witch for months, licks of her magic calling to him from various places, the desire to catch her renewed when he'd discovered her pink scarf tied around a tree. That same scarf was looped around his neck, keeping her unique scent close to hand.

Trev Scabior wasn't a good man; he wasn't rich and powerful, or from some high and lofty family. Trev was a hunter, a seeker, not of snitches, but of magic. He'd always had an innate ability to sense and track others based on their magical signature. If he'd had a better upbringing, that skill might have led him to the Auror's office, but he'd grown up the bastard son of a disgraced witch and learned to put his talents to more questionable uses.

He tugged the collar of his worn duster up around his neck more securely, and headed back into the dizzying swirl of white. The witch was close, he could literally feel her magic dancing on the snowflakes, an invisible beacon in this strange world of ice and snow. A frown tugged at his lips as he felt her magic drawing closer, as if she'd stopped moving. He'd never gotten so close before. Quickening his pace, Trev could see a dark shape ahead, huddled against a fallen log. He palmed his wand and approached with caution.

When the witch didn't stir, he swore and tore one of his gloves off, checking for a pulse. It was weak and faltering, but there. He found her wand clutched in her hand and he pocketed it, before picking her up. "Can't let a little bird freeze out in this, now can we?" He'd chased her too long to let her die, or just hand her over to Greyback. No, this little prize was his now.

Trev disapparated, not knowing or caring that her friends were frantically searching for her. When Ron and Harry stumbled past the fallen log, they saw nothing but an unbroken blanket of snow, the wind drifting it over the depression where she had been. The snowstorm obliterated any evidence of her abduction, and any trace of where she'd gone.

~Fin


	68. Myrrdin's Joy and Nimue's Tears

**A/N: Written for Round Five of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short /Prompt: It was just for one night after all. [First line] / Word Count: 1076**

 **Very AU. Myrrdin was the original Welsh name for Merlin.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

It was just for one night after all. He was purely taking pity on the witch, it meant absolutely nothing. Come morning she would leave, and they would be on opposite sides of the war once again. At least that was what Severus told himself as he watched her sleeping on his couch. He had saved her from McNair and Rowle in a moment of utter insanity. The Order wanted him dead for the murder of Dumbledore, Potter would happily kill him with his bare hands if he was given half a chance, and he was under orders from the Dark Lord to stay under the radar until they were able to finally overthrow the Ministry.

He'd been looking out the window of his grimy little Knockturn alley flat when he'd spotted her, and purely on instinct he'd gone to protect her from his brothers in arms. It still astounded him that this little slip of a schoolgirl had managed to puzzle out the truth of his situation. The Dark Lord, his former colleagues, and every single member of Albus' sainted Order believed he was nothing but a vile murderer. Astonishingly, this girl had looked him in the eye and all but declared her belief in his innocence.

Severus moved across the room on silent feet, not wishing to disturb the exhausted girl. Mentally he scoffed at the very notion, he was many things…none of which were 'innocent'. There had been something else in her eyes, something that he hadn't experienced in an age. Trust. She trusted him enough to fall asleep on his couch, covered with emerald green blanket and with him in the room. She trusted him to guard her sleep and not harm her.

Severus knew he didn't deserve her trust, but for just tonight he would not betray it. At least he could give her this one night of safety. His end was fixed, but perhaps he'd be able to give her some small help, something to let her survive the coming nightmare that was going to engulf all of the wizarding world. While he'd always had doubts about the house she'd been sorted into, he knew that she fiercely guarded Potter and was loyal to a fault. What if he could give her more than one night of safety? A dangerous thought prickled at the back of his mind.

Albus had always discounted Miss Granger, never valuing the brilliant muggle-born girl as highly as Severus thought he should. Albus could wax eloquent about the fine virtues of Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter…but praise for the brains of the so-called Golden Trio had always been hesitantly offered. Severus suspected that was because Albus knew the dangers of the girl's intelligence, as well as its potential benefits to Potter.

"Brilliance is far easier to corrupt than mediocrity," he whispered softly into the darkened room, the Dark Lord's words floating up from his memory. Yes, the truly brilliant were often drawn to the darkness, and he had little doubt that without Potter and Weasley's friendship the young witch would have followed a path somewhat similar to his own. He'd seen her in those first two months of her first year, alone and unwanted, shunned by her house and ridiculed for her talent. There were uncomfortable parallels with his own past there. Her circle was frighteningly small, and if she were ever to lose Potter, he had no illusions that her friendship with the Weasley boy would continue. No, she would be left adrift.

'And she will lose him.' Severus sighed, the terrible truth hitting him hard. Potter would not survive the war, no matter which side won. Potter had to die for the Dark Lord to meet his end, and where did that leave the brilliant, kind-hearted Miss Granger?

He opened his potions case, and withdrew a slender purple crystal phial. Nimue's Tears. He looked over to the young witch sleeping so trustingly there. It was a desperate idea, but it would ensure the girl's safety, and she had asked him to help her. He could reject Albus' plan and spin one of his own, take the girl's place at Potter's side, and ensure things happened as they needed to. When everything was over, he could wake her from her magical sleep and confess what he had done. She would never forgive him, but at least she would live…and he could face his fate knowing that he'd at least spared her from months of hardship and death.

He unstoppered the vial and approached, his feet making no noise as they cross the floor. He carefully tipped the potion over her lips, her tongue reflexively darting out to taste it. He put the stopper back in and returned the potion to his case. A single drop was all it took; Nimue's Tears would place its victim into an unending, magical sleep. Only an obscure potion called Myrrdin's Joy would wake her now.

In the darkness before dawn, Severus apparated with the unconscious girl into the heart of the Forbidden Forest. No sane witch or wizard would dare tread so deeply alone, but he knew where he needed to take her. A towering, gnarled, ancient oak stood in the center of a clearing, some strange and ancient magic protecting it from encroachment by the tangled forest. He knelt before the tree and felt a wash of magic settle over him, a touch from one of Founders of Hogwarts. This oak had been planted by Salazar Slytherin, one of four sentinel trees. Called upon by someone worthy, they could offer protection.

He laid Miss Granger onto the ground between some of the massive roots. The roots seemed to rise up out the ground twisting together to create a bed, and a shimmering bubble of light encased the sleeping witch. The tree would guard her, for as long as she needed its protection.

"Thank you," he whispered to the ancient oak, and after one last look at his former student, he left the clearing. He had a handful of hairs, a sealed vial of her blood, and all the knowledge he required to attempt to impersonate her long enough to end this. While the prospect of being in a teenaged witch's body for months on end made him want cringe, he was reasonably certain with his experience and Dark Arts expertise, they could end the war in a few short months. The things he did for his students…

~Fin


	69. A Suitable Offer

**A/N: Written for Round 5 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed [Understanding] / Prompt: Writing / Word Count: 3453**

 **Victorian Era AU, set approximately in 1880. In this AU there was no Voldemort, and no war. Severus Snape never taught at Hogwarts, and Phineas Nigellus Black is the current Headmaster.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Phineas Black was admittedly not the most popular Headmaster that Hogwarts had ever seen, but he was efficient and had a deep sense of duty towards his students, even the muggle-borns that proved themselves worthy of his time. He'd come to Hogsmeade today in search of one of his recent graduates that was in need of some assistance. He nodded to the people he passed in the street as he made his way towards the apothecary. Phineas spotted his former student manning the counter and he nodded politely to her as he approached.

"Headmaster, what brings you to Hogsmeade today?" The young witch smiled politely.

"I'm here in search of you, Miss Granger. I wanted to enquire after your plans to pursue a Potions Apprenticeship," he said, keen grey eyes taking in the closed expression on her face with some disappointment.

"I'm afraid I haven't had any replies to my applications, Headmaster. It seems that Professor Mornet was correct," Hermione admitted quietly, dropping her eyes down to the worn wooden counter.

"Professor Mornet may occasionally be correct, but that does not mean he is right, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said, pleased when her head came up. He withdrew a letter from his robes and passed it to her. "I suggest you read this letter and give serious consideration to the offer it contains. I can personally vouch for this wizard's character, and while your time under him will not be easy, he is one of the premier minds in the field, and he has never considered accepting an apprentice before."

Hermione reached out, taking the letter carefully. "Headmaster, I don't know what to say," she said quietly.

"After you meet him, Miss Granger, you may not actually consider this a favour." Phineas chuckled a bit. "You are one of the most academically successful students that I've had the pleasure to see come through Hogwarts during my tenure as Headmaster, and you deserve far better than manning a shop front." He straightened himself a little. Besides, he had no intention on losing that bet with Phillip Mornet over Miss Granger's fate; he'd bet a hundred galleons on her securing an apprenticeship by September and by Merlin he would make certain she did. "Good day, Miss Granger."

"Good day, Headmaster Black," Hermione said, trying very hard to contain herself. She tucked the letter into the inner pocket of her work robes, and knew that her fingers would be itching to read it until her shift finally ended. The fact that she was having to work in the apothecary purely as a clerk, not even allowed to touch the ingredients, infuriated her. She'd written nearly fifty-six letters to Potions Masters and Mistresses in Britain and on the Continent, but hadn't received a single reply. A small part of her honestly wondered if any of them had even taken a moment to read her letter before throwing it in the bin. She hated indulging in that kind of negative thought, but it was impossible to avoid it entirely.

Many of her classmates had received unsolicited offers as early as January from prestigious Masters. What galled her to no end was that she was top of her classes, and just because she was muggle-born her accomplishments were somehow irrelevant. She'd spent seven years working harder than anyone else in her year, proving to all of her Professors that she was the very best at any task they set. Now, a few weeks after graduating as Head Girl with straight O's on her seven NEWTS, she was working for a mere three sickles a week as a bloody shop clerk. It was humiliating and utterly demoralizing. Most nights she'd end up crying herself to sleep, worrying over her prospects. She didn't want the Draco Malfoys and Pansy Parkinsons of the world to be right in that she was just a worthless mudblood, no better than a particularly clever krup. This letter was a chance to prove them all wrong.

The shop closed at 5 pm and Hermione was tasked with sweeping the storefront while Mr. Grieves finished off in the Potions lab. She tucked the broom away, then stretched her back a little.

"All done then, Miss Granger?" her employer asked, coming out of the potions lab and warding it shut tightly.

"Yes Sir, everything's set for tomorrow," she replied politely. While she might find the work tedious and well below her abilities, he had been kind enough to offer her employment when many others had sneered at her. More than one person had scoffed at Hermione, telling her that a witch's place was in the home.

"Very well, off with you," he said, the amused expression on his face softening the clipped words.

"Goodnight Sir." Hermione left the shop, heading for the rooms she was renting over Scrivenshaft's. Madame Caliway had offered her a spare room for a reasonable rate. She had some meager funds, and had been counting on securing a position as a potions apprentice to start providing for her future. All of her plans and carefully plotted charts had hinged on that one small thing. She opened the door and with a flick of her wand reapplied the wards behind her.

She took off her bonnet and unpinned the tight braids she used to control her wild hair. Letting out a sigh of relief, she sat at her writing desk and pulled out the letter the Headmaster had brought her. The parchment was heavy, and clearly from expensive stock. The seal was black wax, with two elegant S's intertwined. It was not a seal she recognized, but she broke it and unfolded the letter. The page was filled with slanting, spiky script.

 _Ms. H.J. Granger,_

 _Attached please find a copy of an apprenticeship contract and a copy of my own accreditations. I am writing to you after reading a glowing letter of recommendation from your Headmaster. I find myself intrigued to meet the student that was able to so impress a man I know to be rather unimpressed with students as a whole. While I did not have the pleasure of attending Hogwarts under your illustrious Headmaster, his reputation certainly precedes him and I am certain that he would not have falsely extolled your virtues._

 _I attained my Mastery in Potions at the age of 18 and am the youngest Potions Master in nearly three centuries. I have never taken an apprentice before, and have little patience for those that fail to use their brains and apply good sense to common situations. I am a member in good standing with the Society of British Potioneers, and consult regularly with both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. My primary focus, however, is in private research and I receive a great deal of private funding for the various projects I am currently undertaking. If you accept the position as my apprentice, I expect you to swear a wand oath to not reveal anything you might learn about my benefactors, research, or the experimental draughts I have in development. That point is non-negotiable._

 _I advise you to carefully read the contract I have enclosed, and invite you to write to me with any questions you might have. I would also like to understand what inspired you to pursue a career in this field against the advice of your Professor, Philip Mornet._

 _I look forward to your owl,_

 _Master S. Snape_

 _Nettle Croft_

 _Norfolk_

Hermione's initial impression of the man was that he seemed quite blunt, and not someone that would enjoy beating around the bush. There was something rather reassuring about his slightly brusque nature. She knew of Master Snape by reputation alone; indeed, anyone who had ever read a single Potions Periodical would have to be blind to miss the regular mentions of his clever innovations. The opportunity to study under someone that brilliant was unbelievably enticing, and there was likely little in his contract that would leave her unwilling to accept it. The offer itself was puzzling though: the man was a notorious recluse and it was well known that he never accepted apprentices. There were also whispers of him being embroiled in the Dark Arts, though Hermione honestly just attributed that to professional jealousy. How many rumors had she endured over the years at Hogwarts after all?

The contract itself was very straight forward, he would provide her room and board as well as a small stipend for clothing and supplies while she was his apprentice. The term of her contract would be either until she successfully passed her Mastery Exam or three years, whichever was shorter. He also reserved the right to offer her employment after her Mastery, before she could entertain any other offers, should he desire to retain her talents. There was the privacy oath he had mentioned, as well as outlining her basic duties as his apprentice. It was very simple and straightforward. It struck her as quite odd again. She'd seen some of her classmate's contracts, and they'd been much more elaborate with dozens of clauses stuck in to give the Master a great deal of power over their apprentice, sometimes even for years after they'd achieved their Mastery.

She put the letter and contract down, starting to prepare herself a small dinner while she mentally decided what to write in return. It was times like this that she most missed her parents. Her father was a doctor, who'd agreed to relocate to Australia with her mother. It had been a great opportunity for her parents and she'd encouraged them to go. She wrote to them, but the distance was so great that letters were few and far between. When they'd left last summer, she'd been so confident that her grades would secure her a great position that she'd reassured them that she was perfectly fine, not wanting them to worry.

 _Master Snape,_

 _I cannot express how surprised I was when Headmaster Black delivered your letter to me. I am well aware of your many accreditations and honours in the field of Potion Making, and am quite humbled by the opportunity you're extending to me. After reading over the contract you included, I can say that I have no questions, as it is quite clear and concise._

 _As to your query about my choice of potions as a career, I think the appeal for me is that potion making is the ultimate puzzle for me. In most other disciplines the big questions have been mostly answered, but in Potions there is always something new. A new ingredient, a new application for an old ingredient, an exotic new disease that needs a treatment. I want to answer as many of those questions as I can, and learn to move beyond what I've learned in the classroom so I can apply it to the wider world. When I'm brewing I feel a kind of calm, as if for a short while the whole world falls away and there is nothing else._

 _Professor Mornet may not have any faith in my abilities, but despite his best efforts, I have persevered and scored much higher than his favourites on my Potions NEWT. I spent many nights perfecting my skills on my own time, dedicating myself to achieving that benchmark. Perhaps I worked so hard out of a desire to prove him wrong, but in the end I needed to prove to myself that I could do it._

 _I'm sure after reading this, you'll think me some silly little girl, with my head in the clouds, but I assure you I take this extremely seriously. I am not afraid of hard work, and will apply myself faithfully to whatever tasks you set me._

 _In return for my candor, I would like to know what convinced you to take me on as your apprentice. While you said the Headmaster's recommendation was impressive, I can't help but think that there must have been another reason. Please don't think me impertinent, but I feel it is a valid question. I have signed the contract and will enclose it with this letter._

 _I will await your owl,_

 _Ms. Hermione Granger_

 _Hogsmeade Village_

 _Scotland_

o.o.O.o.o

Severus Snape walked down to the edge of the cliffs and sat himself down on a weathered old rock. After growing up in the slums of Manchester, his primary goal had been finding a way to purchase a place out in the countryside, where he could brew in peace and quiet, surrounded by clean air. The little cottage wasn't much to look at, but it was his. He broke the red seal on the letter he'd received from Miss Granger, interested to read her words. Her handwriting was neat, without the excessive flourishes that so many women tended to use, and he found himself starting to create a mental picture of the witch in his mind. Plain but neat, likely with intelligent eyes and lips that would smile more than they would frown.

Reading her description of why she found potions so compelling, he felt his lips quirk into a tiny smile. He understood the allure of a puzzle as well, and the most complicated potions were the strange combination of puzzle and art. It took skill and intuition to brew something new, as well as daring and a certain disregard for the commonly accepted rules. Potions Masters walked a fine line, and the very best knew full well that one day an experiment of their might kill them.

While she didn't state it outright, he could practically feel her contempt for Phillip Mornet dripping off the page and he knew enough of the man to guess why. Phillip was a pompous, arrogant fool and the fact that this girl saw through him only spoke to her good sense. Headmaster Black's letter had been a surprise, but if the witch was even a fraction as talented as her NEWT results hinted she was, she would pass her Mastery exam with ease.

He closed his eyes and let the sea breeze wash over him. There was a peace to be found here, and inviting a stranger to live with him, for upwards of a year, was an uncomfortable prospect. He was intensely private and visitors to his sanctuary were rare. Even Lucius only came by from time to time to ensure that he hadn't blown himself up, or at least that was what Severus told himself. His home was not large, and having a young woman staying there would require a fair bit of change in his somewhat static routine. He looked down to her signature on the contract and sighed; there was little to be done for it. He had extended the offer, and she had wisely accepted before he could get cold feet.

Severus stood and headed back to the cottage, going to the study and sitting down at the desk. He added his signature to the contract with a flourish and the document flared gold and duplicated itself. One copy would remain in his files, and the other would be hers. He pulled out a piece of parchment and smoothed his hand over it. Her question was a good one, and she had every right to ask it. She was putting herself under his power for what could be a very long time, and the young witch deserved at least a certain amount of candor from him. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and carefully scraped the excess ink off the nib before setting it to the parchment.

 _Ms. Granger,_

 _I do not consider the question impertinent in the least, and I will endeavor to answer it as fully as I can. Understand that I am not a man who is comfortable laying his private affairs out to the world as a whole, but in this I will own that you have a certain right to know my general motivations. Perhaps in time I will be more comfortable sharing the specifics, but for now please accept my words at face value._

 _I find the fact that you, and many other young witches like you, are regularly passed up for further educational opportunities purely abhorrent. I may have many acquaintances that espouse pure-blood supremacy and rhetoric, but I give it little credence. I am myself a half-blood, and had to work very hard to overcome prejudice in my school years for being the son of a blood-traitor and a common muggle. You will find I have a great deal of understanding about the hardships and obstacles that you have fought to overcome, and as such can hazard a fair estimation of your character._

 _In my youth, I knew a young witch of exceptional talent. Like you she was muggle-born and also like you, she faced limited opportunities once she left school. She ended up marrying soon after graduation, giving up on her dreams of pursuing a Charms Mastery. Tragically she died young, with all of her potential wasted, and her dreams left unrealized. Once I obtained my standing in the Society of Potioneers, I left word at Hogwarts that should another muggle-born witch or wizard showing potential in my field find themselves without prospects, that I would consider extending them the opportunity to apprentice with me. I did so in the memory of that unfortunate witch, and I assure you that I have no other darker motivations. I hope this helps you to understand why I wrote to you, and puts any suspicions you might have to rest._

 _I have enclosed a copy of your apprenticeship contract, and I will expect you here no later than a week from today. My home is connected to the Floo network, and can be accessed by way of the address 'Nettle Croft'. We can discuss particulars once you arrive._

 _I look forward to working with you,_

 _Master S. Snape_

 _Nettle Croft_

 _Norfolk_

Severus flicked his wand at the parchment to dry the ink and sat back in his chair. Even mentioning Lily in such a vague fashion was hard for him, and the memory of her loss still hurt even after all these years. He could only hope that his words had satisfied the young woman's curiosity and would forestall any further enquiries on the matter. He would see about preparing a room for her, and resign himself to the disruption she was bound to bring into his life.

'Oh Lily, the things I do for you,' he thought quietly, black eyes drifting to a vase of yellow lilies by the window. Curse Potter to the depths of hell for taking her from him, and then squandering her so cruelly.

o.o.O.o.o

The reply from Master Snape had put most of her fears at ease. She'd given her notice at the Apothecary, and shared her good news with Madam Caliway. The older witch had given her a hug and wished her well. Her familiar was lying on the bed watching her pack her things carefully into her trunks. Occasionally the massive orange tom-cat would thump his tail, as if commenting on her folding skills. As she packed, her mind drifted to the wizard offering her the chance to fulfill her goals.

The tone in his letters told her nearly as much as the words themselves. It started out slightly tentative, and then his words about the witch from his youth seemed to flow out like water. Once he'd finished with his explanation, he had reverted to a cool almost professional tone. It was clear that he was indeed a deeply personal man, who had experienced loss in his life and would not be open to discussing it. She could accept that, especially considering what he was doing for her.

Hermione didn't need to know every intimate secret of his life to understand the wizard, and she felt as though she had a fair grasp of him in her head. In her mind's eye she could almost see him, frown lines marking his stern face, put there by years of worry and stress. She could imagine him having a somewhat dry, but wicked sense of humor that she might one day get to experience. She would have to earn that kind of liberty though, and she had a feeling that it would take time for him to grow accustomed to her presence.

Hermione shrunk her trunk, filled to the brim with her clothes, possessions, and her beloved books. She was heading off on an adventure, the first step to her dreams of being a Potions Mistress. Over time she hoped her understanding of Master Snape would deepen, and perhaps a little of his success and brilliance would rub off on her.

~Fin


	70. Grey As Our Eyes

**A/N: Written for round 5 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin house. Category: Short [HoH Additional Entry] / Prompt: Grey / Word Count: 841**

 **Set shortly after Sirius graduated from Hogwarts, during the first wizarding war. Could fit into canon.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

"I don't understand why you won't help us, 'Dromeda." Sirius grabbed his cousin's arm and turned her around to face him. She was his favourite cousin, the only one of the Black sisters with enough sense to thumb her nose at her blood-supremacist parents and walk away from all of it. She was a frighteningly talented duelist, she'd taught him a thing or two when they'd been younger, and he just couldn't wrap his head around why she kept refusing Dumbledore's requests to help them fight Voldemort.

"You've always seen the world as black and white, Sirius." Andy sighed and lifted her head to meet his eyes. "There are many reasons why I won't get involved, and even more reasons why I think you shouldn't," she said, pulling up the hood of her dark grey cloak. There was a chill in the air this evening.

"Explain it to me then! Help me to understand 'Dromeda, please," Sirius pleaded with her, releasing his grip on her arm.

Andromeda nodded and walked with him to a bench, her eyes sweeping out over the lengthening shadows as the sun started to sink below the horizon. "The world can't be easily defined into good and evil, light and dark. We are all both, Sirius. The real world is painted in shades of grey, sometimes so light you'd swear it was white, or so dark it seems to be the blackest pitch, but there is always both present. You should always be wary of people that present the world in simplistic terms, they are always hiding something. I don't agree with the aims and methods of the Dark Lord that Bellatrix has chosen to follow, but there is something about Dumbledore that I do not trust in the slightest. I learned a very long time ago to trust my gut, and in this I have to follow it." Her earnest grey eyes met his.

"Is it because you don't want to fight your sister?" Sirius asked.

"Partly." She sighed, realizing the message was going over his head. In time, she hoped he'd understand better. "I also have a daughter to think about Sirius, and if I raised a wand against him you know that they'd come for me, Edward, and little Dora." She reverted to the easier excuse for staying out of the conflict. It was the one she'd given Albus when he'd come to her home, trying to leverage her support. Both Albus and the Dark Lord were idealists, and that kind of narrow focus was dangerous to everyone.

"You know we'd protect them, Andy. We need people like you," Sirius said.

"No one lives once the Dark Lord decides to kill them Sirius, and I won't subject my family to the terror of living under the threat of death." She let a bit of a warning tone enter her voice. "You're my cousin and I love you like a brother, so I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say now." She reached out and touched his cheek, making him look straight at her. They both had the trademark Black grey eyes, traits born from centuries of highly selective breeding and not unlike the classic Malfoy, white-blonde hair. "This war will have casualties on both sides, people will betray one another as it grows more desperate. Don't let anyone make you into a martyr, or a scapegoat. You are Sirius Orion Black, and the Blacks are no one's puppets. Do you hear me?"

Sirius nodded, not breaking the intense eye contact. "I'll watch my back, just make sure you watch yours. Whether you help us or not, you know Bella might come after you anyway."

"I'd like to see her try." Andromeda winked at him. "I might be Andromeda Tonks now, but I'm still a daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Stay safe little cousin, and remember to look for the shades of grey. Don't trust in Albus' absolutes."

"I'll try, Dromeda." He promised quietly, watching as his cousin stood and was gone with a loud *crack*. He didn't understand everything she'd said, but he knew that was just trying to help him. She'd always railed at him to think for himself, and Sirius couldn't help but think that this was another one of her little life lessons. He stood and headed off into the shadows, needing to get back to James and Lily's, there was a raid being planned and they needed to go over details.

It would be years before Sirius fully understood what Andromeda had tried to tell him that day. Somehow she'd foreseen the betrayal that had sent him to Azkaban, and tried to warn him. Surrounded by the cold grey rocks that formed his prison, and wrapped in the tattered grey robes he'd been given to wear, Sirius finally comprehended how grey the world truly was. It was cold comfort, but all he was likely to get in the desolate isolation of the North Sea.

~Fin


	71. Fountain of Fair Misfortune

**A/N: Written for Round 6, of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Professor Herbert Beery / Word Count: 349**

o.o.O.o.o

"There, there Herbert, no real harm done." Albus pressed a cup of tea into the soot-covered Herbology Professor's hand.

"No harm done?" Herbert Beery gave the Headmaster an incredulous look. "Half the Great Hall nearly burned to the ground and Miss Selwyn and Miss Prewett are in the hospital wing! Never in all my years have I seen such a display! Duelling over a part in a play? What was going on in their heads?" He gesticulated wildly, tea sloshing out of his cup.

"Minor injuries only, you know how excitable young witches can be. Truly, you are overreacting Herbert." Albus sat down at his desk, seemingly unperturbed. "I'm quite certain next year's play will go much better."

"Next year?" His eyes were fairly bugging out of his head. "You can't be serious Albus."

"Oh come now, if at first you don't succeed." He chuckled.

Herbert stood, setting the untouched tea down. "If you'll excuse me Headmaster, I feel as though I should go and check on my students," he excused himself and left the Headmaster's tower feeling utterly overwhelmed. In all his years at WADA, the Wizarding Academy for the Dramatic Arts, he'd never experienced such a disaster. He couldn't believe that Albus wanted him to hold the play again: the Minister of Magic's cloak had caught fire for Merlin's sake! Nothing good could come of attempting a repeat performance, mark his words.

Choosing this particular pantomime had been controversial, and he could understand the uproar from _certain_ parents. There had even been grumblings from members of the Board of Governors about it being 'indecent' to suggest a witch would fall in love with a muggle. He'd fought tooth and nail, saying it was a classic piece of wizarding literature, and in the end Albus' vote had swayed the Board. After this utter debacle…well, he would be lucky if the Board wasn't calling for his immediate resignation by morning. He repressed a shudder just thinking about. He was going to be the laughing stock of the London Dramatic Society.

Put on the Fountain of Fair Fortune again? Never.


	72. Out of the Frying Pan

**A/N: Written for Hermione's Haven, March Roll-A-Drabble. Fenrir/Time Travel**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Hermione was running, throwing herself headlong through the trees. She could hear the crash of underbrush behind her, heart pounding frantically against her ribcage, and her lungs frantic to draw as much oxygen in as possible. She didn't know who was on her tail, but she didn't dare risk a look behind her. There was a strange feel in the air as she moved deeper into the woods. Ahead she spied a break in some heavy brambles, just big enough for her. The entrance was strangely arch shaped, but she didn't have time to ponder. She could feel her pursuer hot on her heels. She threw herself at the archway, just as she felt sharp claws rake her back.

She was falling, and couldn't help but scream, as it seemed endless. She hit the ground hard, after what had felt like an eternity in freefall. She rolled across the ground, covered in leaf litter, until she stopped. Hermione lifted her head, looking around and frowning. Everything looked different, and there was no sign of the brambles she'd leapt through. She listened and couldn't hear anything other than the pleasant twittering of songbirds. She slowly sat up, hissing a little as pain shot through her back. It must have been Greyback chasing her, no human could have ripped through her heavy jean jacket with regular fingernails.

It had been early spring, the leaves just starting to unfurl and the weather cool and grey, this forest was in the full swing of summer. The trees were different too, what in the name of Merlin had happened? She carefully got up, pulling her wand out and laying it across her palm. "Point me Harry Potter!" She said, frowning even more as it spun wildly. She closed her hand around the handle and tried not to panic. Her back twinged again, and she knew that her first order of business was dealing with the wound.

Listening, Hermione could hear a stream so she headed in that direction. It wasn't far, and was relatively fast moving water. She decided to risk it and steal a drink. The dull snap of a twig caught her attention, and she turned her head to see a man stepping out of the trees. He was massive, tall and broad, with piercing blue eyes and long black hair. He seemed to be a few years older than her, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a flannel shirt.

"I don't know you," he said in that deep, gravelly tone.

"I…" Hermione stammered, stopping dead as he sniffed the air and his eyes narrowed. She scrambled to her feet as he started advancing on her. She slipped on the wet rocks and was falling backwards, when he caught her.

"Easy there, you're hurt," he said and eased her down onto a drier part of the bank. "Who did this to you?" He eased her jacket off, seeing the deep gouges in her flesh.

"A man, he was chasing me. I don't even know how I got here." She jumped as she felt the tingle of magic. Wizard then.

"Not a man…a wolf," he said quietly. "We need to get this sealed. You're damned lucky it's not a full moon, girl. What's your name?"

"Hermione."

"Well, Hermione." He leaned in close and breathed her scent in deeply. "You can tell me why you were running from a werewolf, and why you smell like me. I'm almost positive we've never met before." His voice rumbled into her ear.

The blood drained from her face. "Greyback…" The man clamped his arms around her upper arms.

"Only my pack knows me by that name." He stood and dragged her up to her feet, snatching her wand from her pocket. Spinning her around roughly, his blue eyes searched hers. "You have a lot of explaining to do, little witch."

Hermione swallowed, unable to think that she'd jumped out of the frying pan and into a bloody bon fire.

~Fin


	73. Personal Talisman

**A/N: Written for Round 6 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Blue Hair Ribbon / Word Count: 634**

 **Set after the Battle of Hogwarts when some of the students returned to finish their NEWTs.**

o.o.O.o.o

Neville always found it strange how over the years, people let their clothing choices be defined by their houses. It got to the point where even minor deviations became glaring. He supposed that was how he first really noticed her, a Hufflepuff who always wore a blue ribbon in her hair, Hannah Abbott. She had beautiful blonde hair, and cornflower blue eyes and was always laughing with her friends. Once you started noticing Hannah, it was impossible to stop. She was just a bright shining light at filled up any room she was in, or at least that was how Neville saw it. That was why it was so strange when she showed up to Green House five that morning, looking unsettled and her hair conspicuously loose.

Neville gathered his courage, something he was still working on even after slaying Voldemort's massive serpent. He walked over to her bench and sat down beside her.

"Are you alright, Hannah?" he asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Talking to witches was damned intimidating. Give him giant magical snakes, Death Eaters, and Dark Lords any day.

"Morning Neville," she said. "I'm fine, I just slept in this morning so I'm a bit scattered." She sighed.

Neville said a quick mental prayer and flicked his wand at a piece of parchment, transfiguring it into a piece of blue ribbon, the exact shade of her eyes. "Would that help?" he asked, feeling a blush heat his cheeks up.

"It's the same colour as mine…" Hannah picked the transfigured ribbon up, and gathered her long hair back, tying it with a practiced hand. "Thank you. I was halfway here when I realized I'd forgotten it up in my room."

"Why blue? I-if you don't mind me asking," he stammered a little.

"Our first night here Clara Belwick, she was our seventh year prefect, came into the dorm and transfigured hair ribbons for all of us. She matched them to our eyes, and said that every witch needed something fun rather than functional. Be it a hair ribbon, or a charm bracelet…because it wasn't good to be serious all the time. She was killed during the war, and I feel like wearing the ribbon honors her memory," Hannah admitted, feeling a bit stupid. "I know it's silly, but I wear my hair ribbon, Susan bought these little muggle friendship bracelets, and that's just how we cope with everything that happened."

"I don't think it's silly at all," Neville said. "I still carry my DA coin, even though we don't need them anymore, and Hermione still keeps her beaded bag on her. We're all dealing with it in our own ways."

Hannah gave him a small smile and reached her hand over, taking his and squeezing it gently. "Thanks Neville, you're really sweet."

Neville ducked his head a bit. "Well…I should go back over to my bench before your friends get here."

"No, stay." Hannah tightened her grip as he tried to get up. "I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you for a while now." She blushed a bit too.

"Y-you have?" He looked shocked.

"Of course, I…" she stopped as Professor Sprout came in.

"Good morning Neville, Hannah!" Professor Sprout said brightly, her eyes glittering with amusement as the two teens dropped their hands in a hurry. "We've got a busy day ahead, can I get you two to help me fetch the mature Screechsnaps? We'll be harvesting seed pods today."

The two nodded, and quickly fled to the back of the greenhouse. They did pause to share a quick smile, and Neville felt warm inside. Who could have ever guessed that a blue hair ribbon would be a catalyst to get him and Hannah together? The world really was a funny place.

~Fin


	74. Knowledge For Power

**A/N: Written for Round Six of the Houses Competition. Category: Themed - Power / Prompt: Your House's Common Room. / Word Count: 2318**

 **Note: This is my own backstory for Thorfinn Rowle. In Canon we know very little about Thorfinn other than his name and general description. It is also inferred in DH by Scabior that there have been muggle-borns in Slytherin at various points in time. This was confirmed by JKR on Pottermore. Thorfinn – Born 1965, making him a 6th year student when Voldemort was defeated in 1981. Clara Hart – Born 1966, making her a fifth year student.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 _ **If Knowledge is Power, then Clandestine Knowledge is Power Squared.**_

 _ **It can be Withheld, Exchanged, or Leveraged.**_

 _ **Letty Cottin**_

 **o.o.O.o.o**

November, 1981

The balance of power had shifted in Slytherin House. It wasn't the first time, because there was always a subtle reorganization of the power structure as the 7th years graduated and the new first years settled in, but with the death of the Dark Lord, the entire House was in a state of chaos. His own position was both precarious and potentially lethal if anyone ever came to suspect that he'd actually taken the Dark Mark back in the summer. At the time it had been a good idea, since the Dark Lord had been gaining ground on his adversaries and his victory had been nearly assured. In the aftermath of Halloween, it appeared to have been a fatal miscalculation. His father had been arrested, and he was far from the only Slytherin receiving such news this week. To an outsider, the common room would look normal, with groups of students sitting and chatting after a day of classes or at one of many tables studying. To any Slytherin, past or present, the frequent silences and darting glances told a different tale. Everyone was paranoid and trying to decide which way the wind was going to blow next.

The one member of their house that didn't seem affected by recent events was Clara Hart. Slytherin's pet mudblood, as they all liked to refer to her. The pretty fifth year student was something of a curiosity for Thorfinn. House solidarity meant that her housemates didn't openly attack her, but her blood status meant that she was a pariah and left well outside the power structure that existed here. Being a Slytherin unfortunately meant that the other houses held her at arm's length as well. As a result, she watched and listened intently to everything. He imagined that she knew all sorts of things about her housemates that they would cringe to acknowledge.

Thorfinn knew that he needed to distance himself from his father's associations, and the little mudblood, Clara Hart, was perhaps the perfect solution. Was it worth sullying himself with her to secure his freedom? Could he really lower himself to being seen in her company? Surprisingly, the answer was a resounding yes. Decision made, he stood up from his spot on the couch by the fire and walked across the Common Room, sitting down at the little table in the corner where she had been relegated to sitting.

As he sat, the younger witch arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. "Rowle."

"Hart." He gave her a charming smile.

"Are you lost, or perhaps suffered a recent blow to the head?" she asked, suspicion etched clearly on her face.

"Can't a wizard come and talk to a pretty witch?" He grinned at her, loving that she saw right through him.

"Given five years of evidence to the contrary, no," she replied sweetly. "Care to tell me why you're intent on committing social suicide by deigning to sit with the Mudblood? Not afraid I'll contaminate you?" She set down the book she'd been reading, something clearly not on the approved reading list.

"I had a proposal I thought you might find intriguing, something…mutually beneficial." He paid her the respect of being somewhat upfront about it.

"I'm listening," she said.

"You're always listening. I'm sure you hear all kinds of interesting things," Thorfinn said quietly. "I'm offering to bring you into my circle in exchange for information when I need it."

"Information, and the clear statement that Thorfinn Rowle has no problem with mudbloods, and is nothing like his murdering, bigot father," she said shrewdly. "You need to distance yourself from your father, his friends, and the Dark Lord." Clara leaned forward, voice low enough that no one would be able to eavesdrop. To anyone looking on, it would look like she was flirting with the attractive blonde wizard. "You need to make sure no one ever suspects what you let him brand on your forearm." She flicked her gaze down deliberately.

Thorfinn felt a chill go down his spine. "And what makes you think there's anything there?" He asked, leaning in and placing a hand over hers. Everything was orchestrated to look friendly, but he squeezed her hand so hard the bones ground together and his eyes narrowed dangerously. To her credit she didn't react, though he supposed after five years of surviving in the Snake Pit, she would have had to master her expressions.

"You wouldn't be nearly breaking my hand if there wasn't," she said, a hint of triumph in her dark blue eyes.

He released his grip and mentally swore. "You played me," he accused.

"Like a perfectly tuned piano, Rowle," she said smugly. "Don't look so injured, I think you like a witch that can run circles around you." She winked and leaned back. "If you want my help with your image, you can take me to Hogsmeade next weekend on a date. In return for information, you'll help me make contacts. I have goals for when I leave Hogwarts, and I need someone like you to smooth my way."

Give and take was the currency of Slytherin House. She might have been forced to the sidelines, but Thorfinn could see that she hadn't been ignorant of the manoeuverings and negotiations going on around her. He felt a little thrill go through him at the idea of just what she could be with his help. "Deal, but if I'm taking you on a date Hart, it's not going to just be for show." He flicked his eyes over her, letting himself see her as a witch and not just a piece to be used and discarded later. She was pretty, and the predatory glint in her eyes was exciting.

"If it's not just for show, you should probably call me Clara then." She grinned.

"You look like the cat that's gotten into the cream, Clara," he said and stood, looking down at her. "You can call me Finn, if you want."

"What time do you want me ready to go, Finn?" She smiled prettily, raising her voice just enough that it would carry to the next table. Her three dormmates sat up a bit straighter at their table as they listened in.

"Be ready at nine," He winked roguishly at her before sauntering back over to his friends.

o.o.O.o.o

June, 1982

The last seven months had been surreal to Clara. Her decision to work with Finn had been a scary leap to make, particularly given what she knew about his true feelings about people like her. If she wasn't so secure in her knowledge of what a pureblood arsehole he could be, she might have been entirely fooled by his act. She nearly jumped out of her skin as he flopped down on the sofa beside her, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

"Jumpy tonight, Clara?" He chuckled.

"Just lost in thought, you might want to try it sometime Finn," she replied in a saccharine tone.

He snorted and handed her an envelope. "Consider this a…gesture of goodwill." He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "I need to know who's replacing old Slughorn for next year," he told her before daringly placing a kiss on her cheek.

"I have five days before we leave for the summer." She gave him an exasperated look. "You do realize good information takes time."

"Just read the letter." He winked. "The team's going flying, I'll see you later." He got up and headed off to the dorms to get changed.

She rolled her eyes and opened the letter.

 _Miss Hart,_

 _A mutual acquaintance of ours has expressed a wish for you to be formally introduced into proper society. Your friend has made it quite clear that despite the disadvantages of your background, you are someone that will go far in our world once you have left school. At least, with the help of the right connections. As a former Slytherin myself, I feel it is my responsibility to undertake this neglected area of your social education. I understand that your sixteenth birthday will be this summer, and I would very much like to have the pleasure of hosting your introduction ball._

 _Please write at your earliest convenience, as I do so look forward to getting to know you better. I invite you to tell me a little about yourself, and your general goals for your future. I'm quite certain I can be a helpful guide as you make your entrance into society. In addition, I would very much like the pleasure of hosting you as my guest for the month of August, in order to help you plan your social calendar._

 _Yours Faithfully,_

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

Clara had to work very hard not to let her utter shock show on her face as she read the letter. Even with the scandal of the Death Eater trial and her husband's subsequent exoneration, the Malfoys were one of the premier families in Wizarding Britain. Having Narcissa Malfoy as her sponsor would open doors she hadn't ever dared dream about. Objectively she knew that Mrs. Malfoy was using her just as much as Thorfinn was, but she'd be a fool to turn it down. You could be the most magically powerful witch in the world, but without social power…you might as well be a squib.

"Who's the letter from, Hart?" Adelaide Yaxley asked as she came to sit down, the picture of pure-blood perfection. Even after living in a dorm with the other girl for five years, she'd never seen her with so much as a hair out of place.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she responded sweetly, enjoying the look of shock. "Just confirming plans for the summer." She folded the letter up.

"Plans?"

"Mmmhmm." She nodded. "I'll be spending a good part of the summer with her, and she's expressed a wish to sponsor my entrance into society. Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other this summer." Clara leaned back against the sofa, revelling in the ability to sit here, in the center of the Common Room and have no one challenge her right to be there. Only the leaders of each year were allowed to sit there, and dating Rowle had opened her path to the top.

"You can't be serious, just because you're shagging Rowle doesn't mean you aren't just a filthy little mudblood whore." Adelaide's pretty face narrowed down into an ugly sneer. "He's just using you to fix his tarnished reputation and then you'll be cast aside like the trash you really are."

Clara leaned forward, blue eyes intense. "Unlike you, Addie, I don't need to shag anyone to further my ambitions. And I certainly wouldn't lower myself to snogging Hufflepuffs just to get someone to do my homework for me. It's pathetic really, I wonder how you even look at yourself in the mirror some days."

"Why you…"

"Problem?" Thorfinn asked, sauntering over and dropping a kiss on Clara's glossy black curls, as he leaned over the back of the sofa.

"Addie and I were just talking about how nice it will be to see one another at the parties this summer." Clara lied through her teeth. She'd hated Adelaide since their very first night at Hogwarts. The other girl had made her first year a living nightmare, between the sharp barbs and petty pranks. If she did nothing else in life, she wanted to RUIN the girl in front of her.

"Yeah, it'll be nice to have an excuse to see you." He grinned. "Want to come up to the pitch with me and the boys? I'll even take you for a few laps around the stadium."

"I'd love to, Finn," she said, accepting his invitation to exit the argument gracefully. "See you later, Addie." As Finn wrapped his arm around her, she caught sight of her other two dormmates looking at Addie where she was sitting on the couch. Shafiq and Bentley were whispering and smothering giggles. In that moment she felt the balance of power shift from Adelaide to her. At least in her year, amongst the witches…she was firmly on top with that little display.

"So, think about what I asked you to find out?" Thorfinn asked as they walked out of the Common Room.

"Do you remember Snape?" She asked, leaning into his side.

"Severus Snape?" He blinked in shock.

"The one and the same. He'll be the new Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House," she said.

"Shit…" he whispered. "How long have you known?" Thorfinn asked, once he'd recovered from the initial shock.

"Since Yule." She smirked. That little gem had been held onto tightly, after she'd convinced old Sluggie to confide in her who his replacement would be. She'd known that everyone would be scrambling to find out at the end of the year.

"Minx." He chuckled as they made their way through the dungeons. "Since I know Narcissa wrote about hosting your ball, I'd like to offer myself as your official escort for the summer. In return for the warning about Snape, of course," he added quickly.

"Just business mmm?" She looked up at him.

"Naturally." He smirked in a way that belied his words.

"Good, because I'd have to cut you loose if I thought you were going soft on me." She winked at him, before leaning back into his side. Just because she was using him to gain power inside Slytherin didn't mean she couldn't also enjoy the fringe benefits. He was brash and impulsive, Merlin there were times she wondered how the hell he'd ended up in Slytherin, but he had this incredible magnetism and she'd regret when their little arrangement came to an end. She wasn't the kind of girl that Rowle would be allowed to marry, so eventually she'd need to move on. But for now she'd enjoy being a Slytherin Princess, with Finn as her Prince.

~Fin


	75. Power of Choice

**A/N: Written for Round 6 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed / Prompt: Green / Word Count: 2560**

 **AU – Voldemort Wins and Harry is killed in the final conflict. Warning for Dark Themes and Character Death.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

A flare of sickly green magic changed everything, obliterating hope and killing the future that all of them had fought so desperately to save.

"Bring the Mudblood to me," Voldemort's voice cut through the stunned silence as those watching looked at Harry Potter's body on the ground. This time he was not getting up.

Hermione heard the words, but couldn't process them through her shock and crushing grief. She was jolted from it as a hand closed around her upper arm and dragged her forward. She felt someone try and pull her back, but their hands fell away as she was led onwards. She felt entirely detached from the scene, not even looking at Voldemort because her eyes were still locked on Harry's fallen form. His brilliant green eyes stared sightlessly out at the world…the spark in them snuffed out forever. She didn't look away until she felt thin, bony fingers on her chin, forcing her to turn her head and meet Voldemort's unnatural red gaze.

"No tears for your fallen hero?" he mocked her.

Hermione jerked out of her shocked daze, and she narrowed her eyes, jerking her face away from his touch, his blunt nails scratching at her flesh. He was terrifying, but she wouldn't cower. Harry had faced him boldly, she would too. His memory demanded no less. "Not in front of you."

"So fearless, even now in the face of complete and utter defeat. Powerless and alone, you dare to defy me." A cruel smile twisted his features. "Hold her," Voldemort commanded and forced his way into her mind. He was surprised as she managed to mount a reasonable defence, but he smashed through. He watched her as a small child, maybe 3 or 4 playing in the garden, levitating stones in spinning patterns as she laughed, falling back onto the lush green grass. He watched her grow, learning to control her wild magic, then the utter joy she'd felt when Professor McGonagall had come to deliver her Hogwarts letter. She'd gone shopping with her mother and Professor Vector, and he experienced her wonder and her sense of finally belonging. He watched her face a Mountain troll and protect her friends, brew Polyjuice potion in her second year, free Sirius Black and play with time, and then seen her first brush with love with a student from Durmstrang of all places. Even at that age, she stood in the light while always flirting with the dark.

The curious Dark Lord drank in every detail of her encounters with Dolores Umbridge, and her nasty curse that left Marietta Edgecomb marked for life as a traitor. He saw her lure her enemy into the Forbidden Forest and leave her to the questionable mercies of the Centaurs. She'd faced Dolohov's signature curse and lived, though it still pained her. Voldemort realized just how essential she had been to Potter and that without her, the boy would have been an annoyance at best. He withdrew and considered the young witch, seeing tears on her lashes now from the pain of his intrusion. Under all the light and goodness, there was a darkness to this girl. In her heart there was a desperate wish for power, for importance…a need to belong. A glimmer of Slytherin Green buried deep beneath the Crimson and Gold of her chosen house.

"I have an offer for you, Miss Granger," Voldemort said then, everyone falling silent as they heard their Lord address the Mudblood with a strange kind of respect. "You will kneel, and willingly join the ranks of my Death Eaters, and in return the persecution of muggle-born witches and wizards will cease. Perhaps your kind have a place in the future order," he said, watching her. The words were chosen carefully, and Voldemort wondered if she would sacrifice her ideals in exchange for the power to change the fates of others.

"Give me your word that no one else will be harmed," Hermione said, her head swimming a little as she tried to see some way out of this. Surely he was just playing with her? It couldn't be that easy, but she also knew that minute she'd started bargaining with him, that he'd won.

"I, Lord Voldemort, give my word that **IF** the mudblood Hermione Granger kneels, accepts my Mark, and swears her loyalty to me, I will not harm any who stood against us today, providing they do not offer further violence. Also, muggleborns will be assimilated into our world and those currently imprisoned shall be released," he said. "Now, what is your decision?"

Hermione swallowed, unable to break the intense stare he was giving her. She shook off the hands holding her and she knelt on the stone of the courtyard. She heard Ron screaming at her, telling her not to do it…but she could do this. If it protected everyone else, she could do this. The power of choice was too much to turn away from. If she refused, she knew the fate that awaited her would be horrific, and everyone else would suffer too. If she refused, she'd never have the power to choose anything again. The young witch was shaking as she raised her left arm, offering it to Voldemort.

"Willing supplication…you are a smart little witch." Voldemort took her wrist gently and pushed back her sleeve, revealing the still healing scars that spelled 'mudblood'. "My mark will wash that away, it will be only a dark memory," he said quietly. "Obedience without question, and loyalty until death are what I demand. Do you swear to this?" he asked her.

"I swear my obedience, and loyalty to you. My Lord." Hermione forced the words out, feeling bile rise in her throat. He lowered his wand and hissed something in parseltongue, the pain was searing and white hot. Green burst of light exploded behind her eyelids, as if the magic itself had a colour and form only she could see. She tried not to cry out, but screams dragged themselves out of her throat as the pain went on and on.

The faces of those watching were a study in contrasts. The defenders of the school wore looks of horror and fear, and the Slytherin students were chuckling until they saw the grim looks on the faces of all the Death Eaters. None of them were laughing, all of their faces were closed, expressionless. They all knew the agony of enduring the Dark Lord's mark, as he burned it into their skin, forcing a piece of his magic deep inside them. It was a violation deeper than any and created a connection more intimate than most could dream.

Finally, he released her and let her fall to the ground and clutch her arm to her chest. It was an animal instinct driving her to curl into the fetal position and protect her wounded limb, the pain driving all higher reasoning away.

"Rodolphus…bring me Dolores Umbridge," he ordered, for the moment ignoring the girl where she lay at his feet. Lestrange disappeared with a crack. "The teachers will escort the students back to their dormitories and seal them inside for their safety. House Elves will ensure they are fed. The injured will be transported to the Hospital wing, or St. Mungo's as required. All other adults involved in the fighting will remain where they are." He stepped over the girl and approached them.

"This girl's sacrifice has given you your lives back, but it is up to you to keep them. Kneel and swear that you will not take up arms against me again. Do this and you will be allowed to leave this place and return to your homes, your jobs, and your lives. Refuse and you will be taken away and held for trial. Decide now." He watched as the teachers and students withdrew and slowly, one by one, people fell to their knees. Unsurprisingly the Weasleys were the last to kneel…but kneel they did.

He walked through the rows of kneeling witches and wizards and had them swear their oath, before releasing them and telling them to leave immediately. They would all be watched, of course, but if their world was to survive, killing all those that opposed him was out of the question. They needed magical children for their world to survive, and magical parents to raise them. As the courtyard emptied, Rodolphus arrived with the simpering, pink-clad witch in tow. Voldemort grinned and looked back at the immobile form of the little mudblood. She was still curled up amidst the debris, oblivious to the world around her.

"Lucius….get the girl up," Voldemort said and watched as the wizard moved forward and knelt, speaking quietly to the girl for a moment and then offered her a hand up. The courtly gesture seemingly at odds with the carnage all around them.

Hermione slipped her hand into Lucius' and let him help her stand, hating that she needed him. Finally on her feet, albeit unsteadily, she nodded her thanks to him. She had not expected words of kindness, not from him.

"Come here, girl." Voldemort held out a hand.

Hermione made herself walk to him, concentrating on just moving her feet. Her eyes focused on details, the cracks in the stones under her feet, the odd little flash of green where a weed was stubbornly trying to cling to life amidst the destruction…anything but thinking about what she had just done. When she reached him, he stroked a hand down her back and leaned in close, speaking just to her.

"Every new Death Eater must complete a task for me, to prove their oaths were sincere. You will kill Dolores Umbridge," he said.

Hermione's eyes widened and she turned her head, looking at him. "I…"

"Your first kill is a special thing, and her death will ensure the safety of others like you. The Muggleborn Registry was her idea after all," he spoke quietly. "I offer you power over life and death, over someone I know is very much your enemy. Will you really refuse?"

"I don't have a wand…Bellatrix's is next to useless to me," she answered him.

Voldemort inclined his head slightly and straightened. "Lucius, find this witch a wand and make certain she understands how to cast the spell I require of her." He met the man's eyes, knowing he would understand. He left them to go over and speak to Dolores, her simpering making him want to end her himself.

Lucius came over, and held out an array of wands that had belonged to the fallen. They had been collecting them as the bodies were taken to the great hall to be prepared for burial. "Choose a wand, Miss Granger," he said.

Hermione hovered her hand over each of them until she felt *something*. It was an innocuous looking wand, but as she gripped it in her hand she felt a flood of warmth rush up her arm. It was longer than her previous wand, and was a deep honey colour with strange variations in the grain and a single green stone set into the end. "This one."

"Hawthorn…interesting," Lucius mused for a moment then shook it off. "He wants you to use the killing curse Miss Granger," Lucius said quietly. "You know the incantation."

She nodded. "And the wand movement, but it's not that simple. Is it?"

"No," Lucius said. "Do you hate the Umbridge woman?" His cool grey eyes met hers, searching them.

"Yes." She didn't need to hesitate. "She's evil."

"Let that emotion fill you, don't try and control it. Let it drive you through this. Focus on your desire to obliterate her from this world, snuffing her out like a candle in a darkened room. Welcome the darkness that follows. If you fight it, the curse will not work," Lucius said. "If you want to survive this day, you must do it."

Hermione nodded. "Why are you helping me?" she asked quietly.

"Because I was commanded to," he said simply. "Do what he tells you, whatever he tells you, and you will please him. Trust me in that you never want to disappoint him," he warned.

She nodded and took a shaky breath, trying to find her center. She felt so off balance, with the world spinning madly beneath her feet. Finally ready she turned, and looked to where Voldemort was waiting for her. Dolores' eyes narrowed when she saw her.

"What is that creature doing with a wand?" her shrill voice demanded.

"What I have ordered her to," Voldemort said and stepped back.

Hermione looked at her, feeling all of her rage at everything that had happened roll up over her. She raised her wand and gestured sharply. "Avada Kedavra!" she said, feeling the power surge through her, green light streaking through the air and hitting the toad-woman right in the chest. The flare of the spell lit her face in its sickly emerald light, and she could feel it tearing into her soul, sipping it asunder just as surely as it was destroying her enemy. The older witch fell backwards, never having had the chance to raise her wand in defence. Hermione nearly dropped her new wand as she realized what she had done. Then she heard laughter, and clapping and she was nearly sick. She'd just murdered her…in cold blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep from panicking.

"Well done…well done. She really is the best witch of her age." Voldemort chuckled and glided towards her. "A little knowledge, a touch of instruction, and flawless execution." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You have done well, Hermione. So much power, in such an unassuming form." He used her name possessively. "But I believe I will need to keep a close eye on you…for a time a least." He touched her face again, tipping her chin up to make her look at him. "I need to be certain your loyalty is genuine."

"I keep my word," Hermione said quietly. She just wanted to fall into a bed and sleep…possibly forever.

"I am certain you do, but I require some insurance." He straightened and looked at his assembled forces. "Antonin, come forward." He finally settled on the Russian.

Antonin came forward and knelt. "My Lord."

"You will take the mudblood to your home. She is in your charge for the time being. You may not kill her, nor inflict any lasting injury." He was firm on that. "But should she require punishment, I leave the methods to you. Do try and remember that she is now one of us."

Antonin stood and nodded. "As you wish, my Lord."

"You will obey Antonin as though his words were my own. Do you understand?" he asked the girl.

Hermione nodded, eyes cast down and fixed on the green stone set into her wand. Green like Harry's eyes, and green like the curse that that stolen him from this world. She could feel that green sickness spreading through her soul, the price she would have to pay for the power to protect those she loved. None of them would ever forgive her, she was a traitor and a murderer now, but she could accept it. In time, she would learn to live with it. She raised her eyes to look at her new master.

"I understand, my Lord."

~Fin


	76. Going to Excess

**A/N: Written for Round Seven of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Theme [Fluff] / Prompt: Hotel Key / Word Count: 2250**

 **AU - Lucius saves Hermione's life at the Battle of Hogwarts and she advocates for him to receive clemency. They start dating two years after the war. This Story is set in 2001, three years after the war.**

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione got into her office early, wanting to get a jump on the morning's reports. Only two years out of her NEWTs and she had been named the Under Secretary for the Department of Magical Education. Lord Marcus Travers had been her greatest advocate and she had learned a lot from the wizard, the first thing being that in the Ministry there were many ways to get your point across. Her habit of battering people over the head with facts until they saw it her way, while effective, could be a little off-putting, particularly around budget time. She was learning how to play the game of give and take that seemed to fuel the Ministry.

Her position involved a great deal of collaboration with Minerva, and she couldn't deny that the opportunity to go and have tea with the Headmistress once a week was her favourite perk of the job. She pressed her hand to the office door and the wards smoothly yielded to the familiar caress of her magic. A casual flick of her wand lit the lamps and opened the drapes over her windows, shedding a pool of light over the wrapped gift sitting in the middle of her blotter.

"Lucius…" She laughed to herself and walked over to her desk, sliding into her seat with a smile playing across her lips. Quickly checking the gift for any nasty enchantments out of habit, she picked it up. It was small, only about half the size of a shoebox and wrapped in vibrant, metallic purple paper. An elaborate white bow crowned the lid and with nimble fingers she opened it. There was a folded sheet of parchment on top of the pale purple tissue paper.

She lifted the paper to her nose and breathed in the familiar scent of Lucius' cologne, savoring it for a moment before opening the letter.

 _My Dearest Hermione,_

 _I cannot believe it's only been a year since you first accepted my invitation to dinner. When we are together, it feels as if we've been in each other's lives for an eternity. I never would have thought it possible for anyone to fit so perfectly into my life, especially after losing Narcissa. I know that it hasn't been easy, and you've had to shoulder most of the public outcry about our relationship. It's terribly unfair, and you have no idea how much I wish I had the power to silence your detractors in a most permanent fashion. Sadly, for the moment at least, I must behave myself and adhere to the terms of my magical probation._

 _Your impassioned defence of me for my actions during the Battle of Hogwarts gave me my freedom, but I hope you know that what I did that day was not to indebt you to me. In that moment, I only wished to protect you from Dolohov, as I wished I could have shielded you from Bellatrix that day in my home. I do not write this to upset you, but you never allow me to speak of these things and I feel that it needs to be said. You gave me my freedom back, and over the following year, I had the privilege of getting to know you beyond the previous constraints of our admittedly adversarial past._

 _I watched you learning to move through our world, and found myself wanting to help you soar rather than see you stumble, as so many doubtlessly hoped you would. When I offered you my aide and you didn't spurn it, I was intrigued. You, who had more reason to despise me than most, were willing to look beyond the past and see the good we could accomplish together. I will admit that I came to admire you as more than a colleague long before you consented to our first date. I honestly own that my feelings started changing the night we nearly came to blows over the first draft of your Lupin's Law._

 _In view of our first anniversary, I have arranged for you to have a few days respite from the office. Inside the box you will find a key, reading the inscription on it will activate the Port Key. As well as being your means of transportation, it will also open the rooms I have taken the liberty of arranging for us. Our reservation is at the Hotel Danieli, which overlooks the Riva degli Shiavoni. While primarily a muggle hotel, it is owned by a wizard and he has kindly reserved the best suite for us. The port key will take you to a private garden behind Dandolo Palace, where I will be waiting for you._

 _You work much too hard, and you deserve a magical weekend away._

 _Yours,_

 _Lucius_

Hermione shook her head, it was unbelievably sweet. She sat the letter aside and uncovered an antique-looking golden key, about the size of her hand. _Dandolo Royal Suite_ was inscribed into the key, and it had a golden ribbon attached to the edge. She tapped the key against her lips as she considered his offer. The temptation to let him whisk her away was huge. Her eyes flicked to the pile of files on the corner of her desk and she was torn. She spotted a piece of paper, slightly out of alignment with the rest of the stack. She pulled it out and started laughing.

 _Go to Italy. We can manage a week without you. ~ Marcus_

It seemed that Lucius had covered all his bases. Hermione stood and gripped the key firmly, before saying the pass phrase. There was a sharp hook behind her navel and she was ripped through space. There was an art to travelling by port key, but Hermione admitted that she had yet to master it. She stumbled as she touched down in the middle of a lavish, Italian garden. A pair of firm hands caught her, helping her find her feet.

"You really have no talent for that method of travel." The rich baritone of Lucius' voice wrapped around her. He turned her around.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, unable to help smiling. "How long have you and Marcus been planning this?"

"A while." He chuckled and slipped his wand out of a hidden pocket in his very nice, but entirely muggle, Armani suit. He transfigured her Ministry robes into a simple black sheath dress. "We'll go shopping later so you have some things to wear." He offered her his arm.

Hermione slipped her arm through his, walking with him towards the wrought iron gate that led into the hotel. "So, what exactly do you have planned?"

"I thought we might do some sightseeing, a little shopping, and perhaps dinner overlooking the canal?" Lucius chuckled. "We're a stone's throw from the Basilica, and I happen to know the curator of the Wizarding Collection and he's agreed to allow you to view it."

Hermione's eye lit up. "People wait for years to gain permission to view the archive!"

"I am not people, Hermione." He winked at her.

Hermione's head swum a little at the mere thought of the priceless scrolls in the collection. It was one of the oldest magical archives on the continent, and second only to the collection in Budapest. The knowledge contained in those ancient texts was immeasurable and she was deeply touched that Lucius had taken the trouble to garner her a rare invitation to simply view it.

"Lucius, I don't know what to say."

"The expression on your face speaks for you," he said as they entered the lobby of the hotel. It was decorated in lavish Venetian Gothic style, and he led her effortlessly through the old Dandolo Palace, up to the Royal Suite.

When they reached the gold-embossed door, Hermione fit the heavy golden key into the lock and a little flash of light unlocked it. The door swung open and revealed a space truly fit for Royalty. Hermione was rendered speechless as she stepped inside. She liked to think that she was a grounded young woman, unmoved by material things, but she was having a very hard time not letting her jaw hit the ground. The view from the windows caught her attention and she walked over, expensive rugs muffling the sound of her heels.

The splendor of Venice stretched out before her, illuminated by the brilliant sunlight. She could see the gondoliers on the canals, ferrying customers and goods around the city. The streets bustled with life and the architecture was completely breathtaking. She'd never seen anything so beautiful before.

"It's a magnificent view, is it not?" Lucius said, coming to stand behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, enclosing her in his embrace.

"I've never seen anything so beautiful," she admitted softly. "You didn't need to do all of this. I'd have been happy just to spend time with you." Idly, her fingertips played along his forearm.

"Yes, I did." He kissed her temple. "You are the most infuriatingly sensible witch I've ever known, did you know that? It's practically impossible to spoil you." He chuckled. "You work tirelessly at your job, sometimes I think if not for Marcus forcing you to leave at a reasonable hour, you'd sleep in your office most nights. I've seen you obsess over the smallest of details, simply because you were determined that the pending legislation had to be perfect. You give so much of yourself to everyone, but you're quite resistant whenever anyone tries to take care of you."

"I just don't like to feel as if I'm a burden," Hermione admitted, knowing that he wasn't wrong. Whenever he bought her little gifts, she couldn't help but feel guilty for accepting them. "You don't need to buy my affections."

"I know that, it's something I love about you. You really couldn't care if I didn't have two knuts to rub together." He squeezed her tighter for a moment. "Something you need to get accustomed to is the fact that I enjoy spoiling you. I enjoy fine wines, good food, and nice things…and I want the witch I adore to have those same things," Lucius explained and paused, moving back a moment. He turned her around and met her eyes. "Neither one of us are terribly good at expressing our feelings, but…will you indulge me, just this once?"

"Of course." She nodded and searched his face for some indication of what he wanted to say.

"You've become incredibly important to me, Hermione. Not because you're the Under Secretary to the Minister of Magical education, or because you are incontestably the brightest witch of the age. You're important to me, because you are the witch I've come to love." He reached out and stroked her cheek, needing her to understand that she was not just a political alliance. "I love the way you pace when you're working out a problem in your head. I love the little annoyed expression that crosses your face when I interrupt your reading time. And I love the man you've forced me to become, to be worthy of you." His grey eyes fairly shone with warmth, truth evident in his words.

"Lucius…" Hermione began softly, but she was silenced by a finger placed over her lips.

"Let me finish," Lucius chided her, and then smoothly went down to one knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. "Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me the honour of being my wife, flawed, wretched creature that I am?" As the box opened, it revealed a beautiful white-gold ring. The central stone was a fire opal, and it was surrounded by glittering diamonds.

Hermione felt tears rising in her eyes, but her throat was too tight to actual say anything. She merely nodded, offering him her hand.

Lucius slipped the ring over her finger and stood. "Imagine that, the indomitable Hermione Granger at a loss for words." He chuckled softly, an affectionate smile on his lips.

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, falling into his embrace. When they broke their kiss, she rested her head against his chest and let her eyes look over the rest of the suite. "Lucius, why are there two bedrooms?"

"I didn't want to appear overconfident." He chuckled.

She snorted. "You had me the moment you arranged for me to visit the Archive, and you knew it." She leaned back and arched an eyebrow at him. Her fiancé just smiled somewhat smugly at her, confirming her words.

"So, would you like to do a little sightseeing today, or should I order room service?" Lucius asked, his hand stroking down her back.

"We have all week, and I doubt that Venice is going anywhere." She winked at him.

"You are, of course, correct. Room service it is." He chuckled and kissed Hermione's hand, before walking over to the telephone.

Hermione watched him walk around the suite, and her heart swelled with happiness. If someone had told her three years ago that she'd be standing in Venice today, accepting a proposal from Lucius Malfoy, she'd have hexed them and likely had them committed to the Janus Thickey Ward. Now everything was different, and she realized that she wouldn't change a single thing. He was right, neither of them were good at discussing their feelings, but he'd been willing to bare his heart to her today. Slytherins rarely took such risks, and that he'd trusted her not to crush his hopes, meant more than he could possibly understand.

~Fin~ 


	77. Warmth, Happiness, and Light

**A/N: Written for Round 7 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Harry/Luna / Word Count: 328**

 **Slight AU, set during OotP.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

"Why is it so easy to talk to you, Luna?" Harry turned his head a little, looking over at the blonde Ravenclaw where she was sprawled in the grass beside him.

"Maybe it's because you know you don't need to pretend with me." She was staring up at the clouds, a soft, dreamy smile on her lips. "I see you, Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived, just you."

Harry turned his head back to look at the clouds as they drifted by. "You see everything, Luna."

"Not everything, just the important things." Luna reached over and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. She rolled on her side and come up on one elbow, blue eyes staring at him intently. "No matter what happens, I promise I'll always see you, Harry." Sometimes Luna just knew things, it wasn't like being a Seer exactly, but something close. She knew these warm days in the sun couldn't last, there were dark clouds coming. Not all of them would survive, but she had faith that Harry would. "No matter how dark it gets, just remember the sun always comes out in the end."

Harry looked a little confused, but nodded and gave her a little smile. "You always know just what to say."

"That's because you're my friend." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, before lying back down beside him. Her fingers were still intertwined with him, and in her mind's eye she could see them back here one day, years from now. They'd be older, changed from the war they'd fought, but they'd be here together. She looked down at their joined hands and saw the glimmer of a ring and happiness filled her heart. Yes, they would face the darkness together.

Luna closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the sun, wanting to always remember its kiss on her skin. A memory made of light, happiness, and warmth to see her through the darkness to come.

~Fin


	78. Fresh Start

**A/N: Written for Round 7 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: A spot under a tree by a lake. / Word Count: 481**

 **Short AU set during the 1998-1999 School year after the war.**

o.o.O.o.o

Being back at Hogwarts was harder than Draco had imagined it would be. He leaned back against the gnarled old oak, and looked out across the Black Lake. The school had reopened, and everyone whose year had been interrupted had been offered the opportunity to return without prejudice, but of the so-called Golden Trio, only Granger had returned.

The Headmistress had made the insane move of naming the two of them Head Boy and Head Girl respectively. Working with Granger was next to impossible, but not for the reasons everyone thought. The problem was that every time he looked at her, he was taken back to that day at Malfoy Manor and images of his Aunt torturing her floated up in front of his eyes. He didn't know how she could even stand to be near him after that; after he'd just stood there and watched like some helpless child. Angrily, Draco wiped away the tears that welled up in his eyes just thinking about it.

"Malfoy?"

"I came here to be alone, Granger," he said coldly, trying to hide the fact that he'd been crying. Merlin's balls, why did it have to be her?

"I know." Hermione sat down beside him and lifted her hand, revealing two bottles of butter beer. "Maybe being alone isn't what you really need right now." She offered him one of the bottles.

Malfoy looked at her, quiet for a long minute before he reached out and took one. He twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, a wave of warmth spreading through him.

"What makes you think you know what I need, Granger?" His tone was flat, his usual sneer conspicuously absent.

"Because when I'm alone, I find myself back there too," she admitted, a tiny tremor in her voice.

"I should have done something. How can you even look at me?" Draco's stormy grey eyes flicked over to meet hers.

"You couldn't have stopped her, but I saw in your eyes that you wanted to. You lied to try and save us. You chose what was right and that's why I can look at you," Hermione said. "You earned a fresh start from me, so here goes nothing. I'm Hermione Granger, and it's nice to meet you." She offered her hand to him.

A roil of emotions hit Draco, but he took her hand. Instead of shaking it, he turned it over and pressed a courtly kiss to her fingertips. It was how you greeted a high ranking witch, and a small smile crossed his lips at her shocked expression.

"Draco Malfoy, and I assure you that the pleasure is mine." A tiny flicker of his old self passed through his eyes, coaxed back to life by her forgiveness. Together they sat under the old oak, and contemplated their new beginning to the soothing sound of the water against the shore.

~Fin


	79. Solstice Magic

**A/N: Written for Round 7 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Summer Solstice / Word Count: 1389**

 **Kotik – Russian for Pussycat**

 **AU – Set six years after the Battle of Hogwarts.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Of all the things Hermione had been planning to do on her Ministry visit to Russia, going to a traditional Summer Solstice Celebration had not been on the list. The Russian Minister had been insistent though, and she couldn't deny that so far it was enjoyable. They'd apparated to the Cavash Forest, just southeast of Moscow. It was a protected forest, and an area deep inside the National Park had long been used by the wizarding population for festivals and ceremonies.

A young witch, a handful of years younger than Hermione, came up to her and offered her a beautiful wreath woven from wildflowers and ferns.

"Thank you," Hermione said and went to take it, only to have the girl place it on her head. She waved as the girl headed off towards the center of the clearing where dozens of small, low burning fires had been started. The smell of smoke filled and air, and music was starting to play as the sun began to sink below the treetops. She hung off to the side, watching as people began dancing, linking hands and surrendering to the feel of ancient magic hanging in the air.

"Would you dance?" A dark-haired wizard approached, his question startling her a little. He was tall, with unruly black hair that hung in loose curls to just above his collar. There was something familiar about his eyes, piercing hazel irises that reflected the flickering light. He offered her his hand.

Hermione found herself nodding, unable to resist his charming smile.

"Yes," she agreed, and slipped her hand into his. He stroked his thumb across her knuckles and drew her from the edges of the clearing down into the swirl of revellers. Feeling a swell of joy rush through her, laughter spilled from her lips. She'd never felt anything like this before, it was almost like energy from the earth itself was filling her up from the soles of her feet and spilling out with her laughter.

The dark-haired wizard lifted her, spinning her around effortlessly. "You're a good dancer!" he said.

"You speak very good English," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

"I spent time in England when I was younger. I'm Anton," he said.

"Hermione," she replied.

"Are you feeling brave, Hermione?" he asked, a wicked grin on his full lips.

"I'm always feeling brave." She smirked, the infectious nature of his smile drawing her in. She spent so much time being serious and responsible that in this moment, caught in the alluring energy of the Solstice, she couldn't resist the challenge.

"Come then, we'll jump the bonfire." He winked at her, gripping her hand tight and starting off at a run, towards the nearest small fire.

Hermione's eyes widened, but she matched his long strides, leaping through the air with him. She felt the heat of the flames as they cleared it and landed unscathed on the other side. There were raucous cheers all around them, and the others nearby were chanting a single word over and over.

"What are they saying?" she asked Anton.

"They want us to kiss." He chuckled. "It's tradition."

Hermione blushed darkly, but bolstered by the thrill of leaping over fire she leaned up and kissed the handsome wizard; she was a Gryffindor after all. As their lips touched, the revellers cheered even louder, but then Hermione felt something else. A flare of magic under her skin, surging through a curse mark that had been dormant for years. She pulled back, stomach dropping down to her knees. Instantly, she knew why Anton's eyes were so familiar. She'd seen them before, just in an older face.

"Dolohov…" She paled, trying to move back, but his fingers dug in tightly.

"Hello _, kotik_. Let's not make a scene mmm? I'd hate to have to kill all these innocent people." A cruel glint entered his eyes. "Don't try going for your wand…I took it from you earlier." He warned.

"You bastard," she hissed, but let him draw her to the edges of the clearing again. "What do you want?" Dolohov had been one of the Death Eaters to escape after the Battle of Hogwarts. He was, however, one of the few still in the wind.

"Many things _, kotik_ ," he said. "Or should I just call you, wife?"

"I am not your wife!" She shouted, trying to wrench herself out of his tight grasp.

"Actually, by tradition…you are. For a year and a day." He lifted up her left hand and a golden ring glinted there in the firelight. "You leapt over the Solstice fire with me, and you never let go of my hand. We sealed it with a kiss." He chuckled as she pulled her hand away from him and slapped him hard.

"Wife or not…I'll see you thrown into Azkaban," she snarled.

"The Russian Ministry has granted me asylum. Legally, there's not a thing you can do." He smiled looking completely unrepentant. "Besides, it's been six years since the war ended. If I was going to come after you, littlest witch, I'd have done so by now. Seeing you here tonight, was just too tempting." He stroked her cheek. "Aren't you the slightest bit curious about me, and how I managed to get asylum here?"

Hermione found herself nodding. "Let go of me, and give me back my wand," she demanded.

"First your word, Hermione Granger, as a witch…that you will not raise your wand against me tonight." His hazel eyes were serious.

"I promise I won't raise my wand against you tonight, tomorrow is a different story." She was beyond furious, but not stupid enough to think she could physically overpower Dolohov.

Dolohov nodded, and pulled her wand from inside the loose sleeve of his shirt. "If you want answers to all the questions I can see brewing in your eyes, you'll meet me tomorrow at a little café near the Ministry, and we'll talk. A nice, safe, public place. But for tonight, you'll just enjoy the rest of the festival with me. No more tricks, no funny business…I promise."

"I don't trust you," Hermione said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Nor should you, but tonight I mean you no harm." He offered her his hand again. "Truce, just for tonight. The solstice is no time for violence."

Hermione stared at his hand for a long moment, gripping her wand tightly as she considered her options. She could just apparate away, but she wanted answers and the flare of magic in her curse scar was something that she knew he'd be able to explain. Nothing had ever elicited such a response from the dormant mark on her skin.

"Just for tonight, trying anything though and solstice or not, I'll kill you."

"I believe you would." He gave a little half-bow. Antonin tucked her free hand into his arm, and led her back towards the main crowd. By morning the little golden ring would dissipate, the little tradition holding sway only for tonight. He'd also felt the flare of magic between them and it was too rare to ignore. He fed her honey cakes and savory pirozhki, a kind of small meat pie. By the time he left her with her Ministry delegation, he could see that he'd made important roads towards gaining her forgiveness.

There were many things in his past that he regretted, and nearly killing her as a girl was one of them. That night in the Ministry…he had not been fit to be out in the field, too raw from the horrors of Azkaban with his control hanging by a thread. He'd reacted in a blind rage when she'd had the nerve to silence him like a child, like the Auror did when they visited the prison to 'entertain' themselves. It had been too soon, and he'd struck out blindly. Afterwards, he'd been relieved to hear that she'd survived, and he hoped that before she left Russia, she'd hear his apology for that.

Antonin had no illusions that she'd accept it and certainly little hope that she'd forgive him, but perhaps knowing that he regretted what he had done would help her to move forward as well. The past was a terrible place to be trapped in, and this witch deserved to be freed from the poisonous prison of hatred.

~Fin


	80. Daddy's Little Butterfly

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Bonus Round / Theme: Fall/Autumn / Prompts: Theodore Nott & Butterfly Kisses by Bob Dylan / Word Count: 516

o.o.O.o.o

 _Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer._

 _Stickin' little white flowers all up in her hair._

 _"walk beside the pony daddy,_

 _Its my first ride."_

 _"i know the cake looks funny,_

 _Daddy, but I sure tried."_

~Bob Dylan~

o.o.O.o.o

Theo walked out onto the porch, looking out over the woods that lay behind his home. Fall was early this year, kisses of colour already dotting the landscape and a nip in the air. He sat down in his favorite chair, a mug of hot coffee placed onto the arm as he ran his fingers over the letter from Portia, his little butterfly. His daughter had been at Hogwarts for nearly a full month now, and he missed her fiercely.

He couldn't count the times he'd gone to her bedroom late at night intending to check on her and kiss her forehead, as if he could ward off bad dreams. Finding the bed empty, he'd sit there in her room and look at the picture of the two of them. Her mother had died when she'd been only two, so for nine years it had been just them. Theo and his darling little Butterfly.

Breaking open the seal, Theo read all about her week. He remembered the thrill of being at Hogwarts for the first time, how easy it had been to get caught up in things. So these letters were all the more precious to him, proof that his darling girl remembered him. This one was nearly three pages long, and at the end next to her name was a little kiss, just a glossy smudge against the parchment.

Goodnight kisses were things that he missed the most, a way to reassure himself that she was safe and sound. Casting his eyes out over the garden, he picked out her favourite things, each one reminding him of special memories. 

Her pony, Sophie, was grazing under the apple trees and searching for windfalls. The first time she'd ridden, Portia had been so frightened and begged him to hold her hand in case she fell. These days, most summer days would see her riding the old Shetland down to the meadow and lazing around in the warm sunshine. This year she'd miss their traditional Samhain ride through the fall forest, where coloured leaves covering the paths like a multi-coloured carpet.

White mounds of sweet-smelling alyssum were clinging to the last days of warmth before they'd fade away. He loved tucking the delicate white blooms into his little Butterfly's hair. She laugh and call him her silly daddy. Alyssum had been her mother's favourite flower, and it was a small way for her to cling to the memory of a mother that she'd lost so young.

He even missed cleaning up the kitchen after her various attempts at baking, like the day she'd tried to make him a cake on his birthday. It had been half collapsed, and the frosting had slid off in places, but it had tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten. His little butterfly was always trying to make life a little brighter.

Theo sipped his coffee slowly, knowing that fall couldn't last forever. Soon blankets of snow would cover the landscape, and each snowy day would bring his little butterfly home to him. Until then, the memories would have to be enough.

~Fin 


	81. Marital Benefits

A/N: Written for Round 8 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: "What do you mean you 'got married'? When? How? Why?" / Word Count: 367

AU- 'Obviously' *said in my best Snape Voice* This is a Snape lives AU, and is set approximately 4/5 years after Deathly Hallows.

o.o.O.o.o

"What is this, Severus?" Minerva looked at him from over the top of her glasses.

"I believe the form is somewhat self-explanatory," came the very dry response. The wizard in question didn't react, other than to lift a single eyebrow as if to question the older witch's intelligence.

"I know what it is! I am merely enquiring as to why you would need to apply for marital benefits!" Minerva said, clearly exasperated.

"I require marital benefits because I got married," he spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child.

"What do you mean you 'got married'? When? How? Why?" Minerva got up out of her seat, stalking back and forth in front of the Headmaster's desk not unlike the feline she often transformed into. "Merlin's balls Severus, at least tell me who!"

"Shall I address your queries in order then?" Severus' indifferent façade seemed to crumble a little. "My wife and I were bonded yesterday, at the Ministry. It was a very small ceremony, with just the two of us and our requisite witnesses. I'm sure I don't need to tell you why, as I'm not the type to bandy my personal affairs about in public." He sighed. "The 'why' of the marriage itself is somewhat more complex. Simply put, one of your former lions cast a spell far beyond her comprehension and frame of reference, without a single thought as to the bloody consequences. Merlin forbid she admit that sometimes there are facets to magic that she cannot glean from the pages of book," he all but growled the last bit.

Minerva's face paled and she sat back down. "Severus, please tell me it's not…" It couldn't be Miss Granger.

"Would that I could, Minerva. I'm afraid your favourite cub now has the dubious distinction of being the new Mrs. Snape," Severus said with a little sneer, but it was quickly wiped off his face as his Deputy Headmistress promptly fainted. After a moment, he summoned Madam Pomfrey to tend to Minerva and wondered if it would be possible to somehow manage to avoid his new wife for the next decade by claiming to be buried under a never-ending pile of paperwork.

~Fin


	82. Stroke of a Pen

A/N: Written for Round 8 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short / Prompt: If you had asked me yesterday, I wouldn't have believed it could happen, but a lot can change in a day. [First Line] / Word Count: 849

o.o.O.o.o

If you had asked me yesterday, I wouldn't have believed it could happen, but a lot can change in a day. Freedom was something I hadn't really thought about for a long time, not since the first night the Dementors had come for us, all those long years ago. Escaping hadn't been freedom, just a relocation. No, none of us had been free…not truly. We'd simply been taken away from Azkaban to do the Dark Lord's bidding. Servitude rather imprisonment.

The door of my cell had opened just before breakfast this morning and a sour-faced guard shoved a single sheet of parchment into my hands. I'm sure that the guard thought me addled, the way I'd stared uncomprehendingly at it. I was being pardoned, my sentence commuted to time served. There was no further explanation offered, and turning over the parchment revealed no additional information. Puzzled was the best description for what I was currently feeling.

I was escorted to a room near the bottom of the tower, where there was some clean clothing laid out for me. There was a basin of clean water, a mirror and some basic grooming supplies as well. Maybe this wasn't just some cruel trick, maybe they really were letting him go.

"You have 20 minutes, don't dawdle," the Auror bit out and left the room, the door slamming behind him.

Slowly, I stripped off my disgusting prison rags and simply cast them into a pile on the floor. The water in the basin was warm and I cleaned the worst of the grime off my face, before trying to untangle the rat's nest that had once been my hair. With a sigh, I gathered it back into a hair tie and resigned myself to the fact that most would need to be cut off. There was nothing else I could do with it now.

The robes were clean, but the cheap material chaffed uncomfortably against my skin. The first thing I would do, once my release was complete, would be to go and buy some decent clothing. Surprisingly, the boots fit well and a quick glance in the mirror reassured me that I looked at least passably presentable to go out into public. I nearly jumped at the rough pounding on the door.

"Finished?"

"Yes, I'm done," I answered, straightening a little. It was easier to appear confident in real clothing. Thread-bare rags were not really all that conducive to presenting a picture of poise and aristocratic indifference.

The door opened and the Auror roughly took my arm, leading me down another long corridor to an open room. My face closed down instantly, as I saw some familiar faces waiting. The new Minister was standing there and there were my confiscated effects laid out on a table. My eyes were drawn magnetically to one particular object; my wand. Instantaneously, my fingers began to ache and I wanted it with a burning passion that I'd nearly forgotten.

"Prisoner 2987645, you are hereby released from Azkaban and your sentence of life imprisonment commuted to time served, under the new Coercion and Duress Edict passed this 21st Day of March, 2010. Your personal effects are to be returned and you are now free to pursue your life as you see fit," Kingsley said formally, no real warmth reached his eyes though. It was fairly clear that he was not pleased at having to release me.

"Thank you, Minister," I said simply and stepped forward, picking up my wand first. The warmth flowed up my arm and settled low in my stomach. For the first time in years, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. "What about my brother?"

"Your brother was released yesterday and will likely be waiting for you at the dock," the Minister said. "Once you've claimed your effects, Auror Stimpson will escort you down to the boat."

I nodded and slipped on my family ring, and slipped the other small objects into my pocket. There was once thing I needed to know before I left, and I turned looking at the Minister over my shoulder. "Who's responsible for our release? Who drafted the new law?"

"Hermione Granger," Kinglsey said, his face hardening even more. "Auror Stimpson, please escort Mr. Lestrange down to the docks." It was clear the conversation was finished.

In something of a daze, I let my self be led away from the prison that had been my home for a large portion of my life. Most of my adult years had been spent locked behind its forbidding black walls. Yesterday, I had been a prisoner and with the stroke a pen, today I was a free man. The stroke of a mudblood's pen, to be completely precise. It was crazy to think about how much could change in the span of a single day. Seeing my brother waiting for me on the dock, I let my other concerns melt away. Today at least, I'd just enjoy my newfound freedom. Tomorrow, I could worry about how to repay the debt I now owed to a young, muggle-born witch.

~Fin


	83. For the Right Reasons

Written for Round 8 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Short Story / Prompt: [Speech] "Literally everything about this is illegal." Word Count: 663

AU: Harry is kidnapped by werewolves as retaliation for Greyback's imprisonment just after the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

"You want me to what?" Fenrir Greyback blinked at the little witch standing in front of him. The most feared werewolf in Great Britain would have thrown his head back and howled with laughter, if not for the direly serious expression on the young woman's face.

"You heard me just fine the first time," Hermione bit out. "It's not like I have a lot of other options. They're going to kill him, and you're the only one that can make them stop." There was an edge of desperation in her voice as she started pacing. "Do we have an agreement or not?"

"Sure girlie, we have an agreement. You get me out of here and I'll convince my pack to let your precious Potter go." The man's strange yellow eyes were tracking the girl's movements, the wolf stirring a little in response to the stress and fear radiating off her. It was almost intoxicating. "How do you plan to get me out of here? I'm slated for execution in the morning."

The slender girl drew an old quill from her pocket and showed it to him. The implication was clear, even to him; he only pretended to be a dumb animal.

"An un-registered portkey? Isn't that illegal?" A grin split his lips, displaying sharp canines in a strange cross between a smile and a snarl.

"Literally everything about this is illegal." Hermione gave him a withering look.

"You could end up in Azkaban for this, you know? How much is the boy really worth to you?" He'd heard the guards talking about this one, about her being honoured with an Order of Merlin and how most of them were torn between open adoration and wondering how it would feel to sleep with her. There was something dark and wild in this witch. He'd seen it once before, when he'd chased her through the woods. It was why he'd wanted her then, and found he still did now. Somehow, Fenrir doubted anyone really suspected just how far this witch would go if backed into the wrong corner.

"The fact that I'm here right now should tell you everything you need to know about that." She offered him the quill, holding the tip securely in her hand.

"You're right, it does." Fenrir reached out and grasped the quill, feeling a sickening hook behind his navel. It was one of the most unsettling forms of magical travel, and he'd always hated it with a passion. He hit the ground in a crouch and quickly stood up straight. The witch was getting to her feet, brushing leaves off her robes. While she got herself together, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He knew these woods and the smell brought to mind endless nights of teeth, claws, blood, and fur. Throwing his head back he howled, calling for his pack and a wave of emotion flooded through him as he heard an answering call.

Fenrir opened his fully wolfish eyes and looked at the pale girl standing there. "Come on girlie, let's go and get your friend. Then we can talk about what you're going to give me in exchange for asylum with my pack."

"What?" She looked at him as if he was insane.

"You can't go back now, witch. You can either stay with my pack or try to hide in the muggle world. No one's going to care that you released me to save Potter. You'll probably end up in the exact same cell you busted me out of." The girl had turned herself into a criminal to save a friend. That was the kind of loyalty he'd be happy to bend to his own uses. He'd just need to be very convincing. The witch reluctantly took his hand and he led her through the woods at a pace she could manage. He really hoped that his pack hadn't started munching on Potter all ready. Wouldn't that just be a damn shame?

~Fin


	84. Fresh Start Bakery

**A/N: Written for round 8 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Themed / Prompt: Baked Goods / Word Count: 2388**

 **AU: Canon up until the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, diverges from there.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 **Forgiveness is the First Step**

 **On the Road to Redemption**

 **\- Anonymous**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Measure, mix, pour and repeat. The rhythm of working in the bakery was strangely soothing. There were rules, structure, and routines that helped calm his mind. Settling into the repetitive procedure of making dough was a great time to reflect on things that Rodolphus rarely found time to ponder. He'd been working here for nearly three months now, and his employer was as much a mystery to him today as she had been from the beginning. One of the conditions for his release from Azkaban had been that he find and maintain gainful employment for the duration of his parole. Finding employment as a former Death Eater had been…challenging. He and his brother had just about resigned themselves to never getting out when they'd received a letter stating that they'd both been offered a position working in a new bakery in London.

The Fresh Start Bakery was the brainchild of Hermione Granger, the supposed brightest witch of her age. Rodolphus found it to be very strange that such a bright young woman had chosen to open a bakery and then hire men that had once tried their damnedest to kill her. The true root of her motivations was a conundrum that plagued him daily, and so like any true Slytherin, he began to puzzle it out. He never asked her outright, but instead chose to spend his days observing her. For someone that had been so close to the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die, he rarely heard her speak of him and had certainly never seen the wizard in her shop. Equally absent from her words and company was the Weasley boy that he remembered being part and parcel with the other two. It pointed to some manner of falling out.

The witch in question was at the other table icing a tray of cupcakes. While she could have used some manner of spell, she chose to do it by hand. It was almost hypnotizing watching her swirl the chocolate buttercream into perfectly swirled mounds on top of each tiny cake. She seemed to prefer to work back here, and given how charming his brother was proving to be with the female clientele, she often spent her afternoons in the rear of the shop with him. Odd as it seemed, it was helpful in his attempts to understand her.

"Do you ever take a day off?" Rodolphus drawled, eyes catching the slight hitch in her movements as he startled her.

"Not really…there's too much to do," she answered simply. "How's the cinnamon roll dough coming?"

"Nearly finished, just need to set it to rise now," he answered. She always did that, changed the topic from anything that could be construed as personal to something related to business. While some people were intrinsically private, after several months working with someone you generally began to lower some of your personal boundaries. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a normal conversation with me. I'm hardly going to infect you with my darkness through osmosis."

She looked over at him, an eyebrow cocked in surprise. "How do you know about osmosis?"

"Unlike my brother, I read." He smirked a little, pleased that his gambit had paid off. In an attempt to understand her better, he'd started trying to learn more about the muggle world. There were some truly interesting things in muggle history, and a beginning exploration of muggle science was admittedly his current evening pastime. Rabastan had been teasing him rather relentlessly about it.

Hermione seemed to appear somewhat contemplative as she carried the cupcakes over to the rack. "What kinds of things have you been reading?" she asked after a long silence.

"I started reading some muggle histories and then found myself reading about the evolution of muggle science and medicine. It's actually fairly interesting how they've compensated for a lack of magic." Rodolphus put the dough into a pan to rise. "Some of the more advanced concepts are a touch beyond me, but it's intriguing."

"I suppose I never thought you'd care anything about the muggle world," she said.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, just as there's clearly much I don't know about you. It would be arrogance to assume that you were just Hermione Granger: Gryffindor, war heroine, and business owner. We all have layers and hidden depths that we keep to ourselves." He shrugged a bit. Everyone had skeletons in their closest, and things they were trying to make up for. His crimes were more apparent: he'd been a Death Eater and responsible for the death, torture, and suffering of countless people. That he was being given a chance to redeem himself at all was, frankly, astounding. What he truly wanted to know was what was driving her. Happy, well-adjusted people didn't punish themselves by working seven days a week, often for upwards of sixteen hours at a time. She was trying to atone for something, and he couldn't imagine what that could be. At the end of the war she'd been only eighteen, just barely an adult. What horrors could she have committed that would drive her to such ends?

"I suppose you're right," was her only answer. Anything else they might have said was dismissed as Rabastan came back, asking Hermione to help him out front. They were getting completely slammed and he was somewhat overrun.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione got home that night, feet aching and the muscles in her lower back just screaming at her. She warded her flat with complex enchantments out of habit and undressed as she headed across the flat to have a nice hot shower. It had been a long day, made longer by the elder Lestrange brother's somewhat probing commentary that afternoon. She couldn't get his words out of her mind. Contrary to what people had been saying about her life choices, Hermione was not a fool and she was very aware that Rodolphus Lestrange was up to something. The older wizard's strange hazel eyes followed her, often intently when they worked together and the air was always heavy with all the questions that he never voiced. Just thinking about the man was honestly exhausting, and she resolved to try and put him out of her mind for the night. A futile goal perhaps, but she'd try.

As the hot water pounded down on her sore shoulders, Hermione's thoughts turned towards the events that had led up to her founding the Fresh Start Bakery. Like many, she'd attended Lucius Malfoy's very public trial. He was one of the few Death Eaters that had demanded the full proceedings be public and open to the press. Most of his former compatriots had been whisked through sealed proceedings and carted off to Azkaban with no details publicized. The full scope of his trial had tilted her world on its axis. The man had been forced to take the Dark Mark at sixteen, a spell that was something of a hybrid between legilimens and a pensieve allowing the Wizengamot and court gallery to observe the memory. The sight of Abraxas Malfoy holding his teenaged son down had haunted her, and she was not the only person who had seen the bruises and blood on the young Lucius' body while it had happened.

In the end, he'd been found not criminally responsible and sentenced to ten years of magical monitoring. It appeared that on the books, there was an old law that said anyone underaged who was forced or coerced into illegal acts could not be held responsible for the consequences of that act. The crimes and all following circumstances were instead the fault of the coercing party. It had made her wonder just how many other Death Eaters had been marked when they were still underaged, and after pressure from her and Harry, all the previously convicted Death Eaters had been compelled to surrender memories of the day they accepted the Dark Mark, and the circumstances leading up to it. Nearly half of the convicted Death Eaters could claim to have been marked as teenagers, and all in questionable circumstances.

In emergency session, a set of conditions were drafted for the release of those Death Eaters on a modified kind of probation. Even though many could boast old family fortunes, it was decided they would all need to be gainfully employed, to earn some measure of redemption in the eyes of society. They needed to earn their way back into society, and not just have it handed to them. The problem, naturally, was that no one was willing to hire them. As she'd listened to Kingsley explain the issues, she'd been reminded of something her father had once told her. He'd said that helping others was the way you helped yourself. Before she'd realized what she was doing, she'd offered to sponsor a couple convicts who needed placements.

That offer had naturally sparked conflict between Hermione and her friends. They just didn't understand why she'd want to help Death Eaters, no matter their past…their deeds should have spoken for themselves. Ron and Harry just didn't understand that sometimes you could do truly horrible things because you'd been backed into a corner. She was grateful that neither of them had been forced into that position during the war, but a little resentful that they couldn't understand that she had. She'd hurt the two people she loved most in this world, her parents. The memory charm she'd used on them had been so extensive, that reversing it had the very real risk of rendering them mindless. She'd used powerful, dangerous magic on people that had loved and trusted her. She'd stolen their memories and played God with their lives. It was an act that she could never undo, and never forgive herself for. Helping the Lestrange brothers to reintegrate into society was something that she could do, however small and insignificant a thing it was.

Hermione sighed and rested her forehead against the smooth tile of the shower stall, hating that her guilt was still twisting in her gut so painfully. She deserved that pain, that gnawing ache, but a part of her just wanted to be free from it, even if she didn't deserve to be.

o.o.O.o.o

Rodolphus let himself into the Bakery. It was early, the sun not yet above the horizon. It was unusual to be here before his enigmatic employer, but today the building stood dark and empty. Or at least, that was how it had appeared at first blush. He could hear soft, muffled cries coming from the store room. A frown creased his forehead as he advanced slowly. A sliver of light fell across the worn wooden floorboards, and led him towards the source of the disturbance.

Sitting in the middle of a mess of spilt flour, was Hermione Granger. Her head was resting on her knees, arms wrapped tightly around them as she sobbed. Flour dusted her wild curls, and little bits fell as her shoulders shook with her grief. Rodolphus had heard plenty of crying in his life, and knew the distinct tones of pain, sorrow, and loss. This was heart-wrenching, true grief and loss. He went over and eased himself down onto the floor beside her, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders. Her immediate response was to stiffen and try to pull away, but he didn't let her.

"Shh…it's all right." Rodolphus said gently. He'd never seen this witch so completely out of control of her emotions.

"It's all my fault…" she whispered.

"What is?" he prompted, keeping his tone gently. This might well be his only opportunity to seek answers from the witch. He was certainly not going to pass it up.

"They're dead…and I'll never get to tell them I'm sorry." She turned, instintictly seeking the only comfort available to her,

Rodolphus was eternally grateful he'd told Rabastan to sleep in today, as he found Hermione curling into his side. Clearly she'd been starved for physical comfort, or else she'd never had turned to him so easily. "Who did you lose?" he asked, a hand rubbing soothing circles against her back.

"My parents…" She managed to choke out.

He tightened his embrace a little. "What happened?"

"I wiped their memories and sent them away…they loved me, trusted me, and I betrayed them. They died in a stupid accident on the other side of the world and it's my fault they were even there." Her hand tangled in his shirt, holding on desperately.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Guilt was a great motivator, and often drove people to acts of altruism to appease their own conscience. He'd never really felt guilt over the things he'd done, but just now he felt a twinge of it. Their actions had driven this girl to a place where wiping her parents' memories had seemed to be the only viable option to keep them alive. Distantly, he wondered how many other people had been forced to make such desperate choices.

"You were just a girl, you did the only thing you could to try and protect them," Rodolphus said quietly. "They wouldn't want to see you in so much pain."

"Nothing ever makes it go away. I work until I'm too exhausted to do anything but sleep, but then they're in my dreams, blaming me for what happened. I don't know how to make it go away," Hermione whispered.

"Forgiving yourself is the only way to start to heal. You gave Rabastan and me a chance to find redemption and forgiveness in a world that had written us off, but it's always easier to forgive others," Rodolphus said quietly. "Guilt is toxic, and if you keep beating yourself up over the past…it will poison every part of your life. You have to forgive yourself and give yourself permission to be happy again."

"I don't know how," she whispered, though the tears had slowly stopped.

"I'll help you figure it out, if you'll let me," Rodolphus offered. "After all, a Slytherin always pays his debts." He gave her a sly little wink, glad when she returned it with the tiniest of smiles. Perhaps in helping her lay her personal demons to rest, he might find a kind of absolution of his own. It would be a rough road to walk, but maybe he didn't need to walk it alone.

~Fin


	85. Soulmates

**A/N: Written for Round 9 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: The tattoo on your arm is the first thing your soulmates thinks while seeing you - she had to wonder if the dear Merlin on her arm was a good or bad thing. [First Line] / Word Count: 371**

 **AU Set during the Horcrux Hunt.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

The tattoo on your arm is the first thing your soulmates thinks while seeing you - she had to wonder if the _**dear Merlin**_ on her arm was a good or bad thing. It had been a part of her for as long as she could remember, but only after joining the wizarding world had she learned its true meaning. Soulmates. It was such a romantic muggle idea, but in her new world Hermione learned that soulmates were incredibly important. There was an entire branch of magic dedicated to the subject and it was said that magic performed with your soulmate was superior to any you could cast separately.

She wondered who her Soulmate was, and what was written on his arm. Once she was older, she could perform a spell to discover their identity, but for now all she could do was stare at the two little words on her arm and wonder. It was something to keep her mind occupied on the long days in the tent with Ron and Harry, maybe when the war was over she could finally answer this mystery.

o.o.O.o.o

Theo was relaxing in the Slytherin Common Room, and he pushed his sleeve back a little looking at the curling script on his arm: _**He seems nice.**_ It was a completely benign phrase, nothing to identify who might have thought it. He wondered if she still thought he was nice, or if she saw him like the rest of the school did; a slimy Slytherin and Junior Death Eater. Brushing the thought away, he tugged his sleeve down and tried to put it out of his mind. He wasn't one of _them_ and he never would be.

Soulmates, it was a blessing and a curse. It was wonderful if you could find one another, but more often than not, people spent their lives looking and were disappointed with the person waiting at the end of the search. Maybe it would be better to forget the words written into his skin and just focus on getting through this war with his skin intact. The odds of him and his mysterious soulmate even surviving the war were astronomically small and finding each other was practically impossible.

~Fin


	86. One Question

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Metal Bar / Word Count: 832

AU Where Hermione doesn't escape with the boys.

o.o.O.o.o

Scratch. Scrape. Hermione worked the sharp edge of the stone against the metal bar she was chained to. It was the only way to track time in this place. There were no windows, no light to give her a sense of the time of day, just this dark slightly damp cell. The rusted metal bar represented the epicenter of her current existence, and the flaky grey paint was the perfect medium to record the length of her time here.

The reason for her imprisonment was no great mystery to her. She'd been handed off to the Lestrange brothers, once it was clear that Bellatrix's outright torture was not going to produce results. She'd expected more of the same from Voldemort's trusted Lieutenants, but instead she'd been brought here and left alone. Her meals simply appeared each day, and the chain was long enough to allow her to reach the toilet, sink, and a basic cot. It stopped about two feet shy of the door and exactly a whole hand width from every other wall.

For the millionth time, she counted the marks on the bar and came up with the same number. Thirty-eight marks, translating into thirty-eight days give or take. She'd taken to reciting her school texts from memory, just to hear the sound of a voice…even if it was just her own. Hermione had to admit it was a brilliant tactic, depriving her of any human interactions. By the time they decided to speak to her, she might well tell them anything just because she was so desperate for any kind of company. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking a little. Really would it hurt to tell them what she knew? After more than a month down here, she'd have no idea where Harry was or what he was ultimately planning.

No! She slammed her hand against the unyielding metal of the bar, the pain helping to shock her out of that dangerous line of thought. A sob clawed its way out of her throat and she slammed her hand against the metal again.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!" she screamed, tugging on the chain that held her captive. It chafed painfully against her wrist, opening the irritated and scabbed skin. In defeat, she sank down to the floor, curling into a ball.

"Tsk tsk, you'll hurt yourself. Silly child." A voice cut through the silence of the room.

Hermione's head snapped up, fixing on the door. Rodolphus Lestrange was walking across the room towards her. He was dressed impeccably in dark grey robes, the dirt from the cell floor seeming to not even touch his clothes. He crouched in front of her, strange hazel eyes fixed on her intently. She fidgeted, knowing she had to look a fright after more than month locked in this room, unable to do more than splash water on her face.

"What do you want from me?"

"Just the answer to a single question," he said, reaching out a gloved hand and tipping her chin up. "Answer my question and I'll take you out of this room. You can have a nice hot bath, clean clothes, and sleep in a real bed. You'll be safe and protected. Do you think you can do that, my dear?" he asked, smooth voice promising everything she craved.

"What is the question?" she asked.

"How did you come to possess the Sword of Gryffindor?" Rodolphus asked, tone even and reasonable.

Hermione frowned instantly. "I already told Bellatrix, I said it a hundred times!" She pulled her face out of his hand.

"I'm asking you to tell me," he said, looking completely unperturbed by her outburst. "Tell me."

Hermione sighed and looked down at the ground. "I…" She was cut off by his fingers once again tipping her chin up to make her look at him.

"Look at me when you're speaking to me. It's only good manners," he corrected her gently.

"Sorry," Hermione said and swallowed. "We found it, in the forest of Dean. We don't know who placed it there, or when. I swear that's all I know," she said quietly. "Harry and Ron found it, I was keeping watch on the camp."

Rodolphus' eyes searched hers for a long time and then he nodded, reaching over to the metal bar, and with the wave of a hand it vanished along with the chain and manacle. He stood and offered her a hand. "Come Miss Granger, let's find you some more appropriate accommodations." At her incredulous look he merely softened his expression. "I keep my promises, child. Please, take my hand."

Hermione reached out hesitantly and slipped her hand into his. He helped her stand and walked her out of the cell. She stepped over the threshold of the room, freezing for a moment until she felt the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back. She took a deep breath and moved forward, leaving the room and that metal bar behind her.

~Fin


	87. Lost in Translation

A/N: Written for Round 9 of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Themed / Prompt: "I can't marry him/her/them! He/She/They would kill me the first week!" / Word Count: 4436

AU - EWE, Snape lives and diverges from Canon after the Shrieking Shack incident.

Dream Sequences will be in _**bold & italics**_

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione loved books. There was something utterly intoxicating about pulling a well-worn volume off the shelf, cracking open the pages, and immersing herself in knowledge. Books had never let her down, not like people had. In the pages of her favourite childhood novels, she'd discovered her very first friends. There were whole worlds inside the covers of those books. In the safety of her bedroom or the school library, she'd been insulated from the casual cruelty of her peers. Books didn't care that her front teeth were too large for her face, or that her hair sometimes looked like she'd licked a light socket.

It was only natural that when she'd learned that she was a witch, she'd then immersed herself into a whole new world of books and knowledge. There was just so much she wanted to know and understand. One thing magic hadn't fixed right away had been her awkwardness with other children. Those first lonely months at Hogwarts before Harry and Ron had been filled with new books. The Hogwarts Library remained her refuge and source of comfort over her turbulent school years. Now, nearly eight and a half years later, she stood in the familiar stacks of the Restricted Section and breathed deeply of that intoxicating scent of old parchment and leather bindings.

Wrapped in that familiar scent, it was easy to let her mind wander and reflect on the events of the past year. After the war, the trials, and the rebuilding of the school, Hermione had been the only one of the famous 'Golden Trio' to return to the school. Harry had been too haunted by what had happened here to even come as close as Hogsmeade, and Ron was too in love with the fame and offers coming his way to go back to school. For her though, the thought of not completing her magical education had been physically painful. The Ministry had offered to award her O's on all the Newts she'd taken in 6th year, but she'd politely declined and stated that she'd earn her grades fairly or not at all.

A week after that, she'd gotten a letter from the Headmaster inviting her to return to complete her 7th year and requesting that she accept the position of Head Girl. The Headmaster was a very different man than the acerbic wizard she'd known before the Battle of Hogwarts. It wasn't entirely clear whether it had been his brush with death that had changed him, or merely the weight of the world lifting off his shoulders that had caused the alterations everyone was noticing. It wasn't that he'd lost his vicious tongue or acid wit, but more that he'd tempered it a little, and every now and then little hints of his wicked sense of humor would peek out.

Hermione pulled a heavy tomb off the shelf and carried it over to her table. She was just settling down to do some reading for her potion's project, when a sound caught her attention. She sighed and stood, walking over an aisle and flushing bright red in embarrassment at the scene she stumbled over. Quickly, she ducked back behind the stacks. Merlin's beard, she was sick of tripping over people who had absolutely no self-respect. She did not need to see Ginny Weasley playing tonsil hockey with Blaise Zabini. She repressed a shudder. It seemed like everyone was with someone, or several someones in the case of Ron. Their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets had been thrilling, but she'd quickly faded from the picture as their fame had spread and witches had started throwing themselves at him.

Even Harry was seeing someone, though he'd been very closed-lipped about who. The speculation in the Daily Prophet was endless, but she had her suspicions. No…everyone had someone but her. Oh, she knew that if she wanted a date, it wouldn't be hard to get someone to ask her out. She'd had plenty of offers, but she knew they just wanted their fifteen minutes of fame and the bragging rights of having bagged the female portion of the Golden Trio. It felt empty and meaningless to her. Hermione just wanted something real, something honest.

That was the crux of the problem: how could she ever find true love if she was constantly questioning everyone's motives? The solution came to her like a stunner striking her right between the eyes. She was a witch! There had to be a spell, or a potion…something that would help her find love. Leaving her potions books on the table, she stood and headed back into the Restricted Section. The search took the better part of the day, but finally she pulled a slender book from the shelf. An almost electric tingling sensation travelled up her arm as she opened it, something about the book calling to her.

Excitedly, she settled in and began reading. The spells and rituals in the pages were not exactly 'light', but she could almost feel the power possible in them. Near the back of the book was a spell that seemed to be what she was searching for. It was titled simply 'Heart's True Match', and was a simple potion. It would take a handful of hours to brew, and the ingredients weren't exactly hard to come by. The inclusion of her blood would technically classify it as Dark, but she was using it on herself…not another person. The potion needed to be taken right before bed, and in her dreams the identity of her heart's true match would be revealed. A cursory search revealed nothing much else about it, and Hermione was determined to at least give it a try.

Hermione painstakingly copied out the recipe and brewing instructions, then tucked the sheet of parchment into her book bag. After one last caress of the book's worn green cover, she placed it back on the shelf. As she headed down to dinner, the awareness of the paper in her bag nagged at her mind, keeping her distracted all throughout the meal. Everywhere she looked now, her eyes fell on the various couples. She could feel envy for that love sinking into her heart, for it just wasn't fair. After everything she'd given up and sacrificed, why couldn't she have what they all did? Why did she have to be alone?

"Hey, you ok?" Neville asked her.

"Huh? Umm…yeah sorry Neville, my mind was just a million miles away." Hermione shook her head and tried to focus on his face.

"Anyways, I was just wondering if you'd come with me to Hogsmeade next weekend. I need to pick out a ring for Luna and I just need some help to pick the right one." He looked really sheepish.

"Of course, I'd be happy to help." She smiled at him. Even feeling somewhat left behind as everyone else paired up, she was genuinely happy for Neville and Luna. They were the most unlikely pair, but they just seemed to fit.

"Thanks, you're a real friend," he said.

"I try," Hermione replied, her eyes drifting down to her bag and the parchment resting inside.

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione settled into bed, holding the vial up to the light. The potion was a deep ruby red and slightly opaque. Professor Slughorn had been happy to lend her the potions lab for the day, and luckily hadn't pried into what project she was working on. Now that it was time to take the potion, a little thread of doubt wrapped around her. The directions had been clear in that she had to consume the potion within twelve hours of brewing it, but maybe she should have done more research about it before she'd committed. No, she was just being silly.

With a determined shake of her head, she uncorked the vial and drank it. She was just having second thoughts, but it was just a simple potion. The worst thing that could happen was that it simply wouldn't work. With her luck, she'd end up dreaming about Dolohov or Bellatrix again. She sighed and snuggled back into her pillows when a strange wave of drowsiness settled over her. A brief moment of panic hit her, realizing that the book hadn't mentioned the potion being a sedative, but she was dragged down into the realm of sleep before she could call out for help.

 _ **At first there was just darkness, and then she spotted a sliver of light. She was walking down a long tunnel, or corridor. The floors were stone and the smell was familiar to Hermione. Suddenly, she realized she was in the Slytherin dungeons, near the Potions Labs. She reached out, pushing open the door the light was coming from and entered the room. It was a set of chambers she'd never been in before, but the level of detail in the room was outstanding. Bookshelves lined every inch of available wall space, the desk and table were covered with scrolls of parchment and stacks of books. The resemblance to her own work space was uncanny. Her fingers literally ached to reach out and run across the spines of the books on the shelves.**_

 _ **Some strange force compelled her forwards, moving her through the room to a door that had been partially obscured by the bookshelves. Hermione was shaking a little as she opened the door, heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. Instinctively, she knew that the person she'd been searching for was on the other side of this door. She grasped the doorknob firmly and twisted, a soft click signalling that it was open. She pushed the door open and saw a man standing by a small hearth, arm braced against the stone mantel with his head bowed. Her eyes widened, not even needing to see his face to identify the man the potion had revealed to her.**_

 _ **In the split second she'd recognized him, his head snapped up and obsidian black eyes pinned her to the spot.**_

" _ **How are you here?" he said, not moving from his spot in front of the fire.**_

" _ **I…" she stumbled over her words, trying to reconcile what the potion had been meant to do, with what it was showing her. Snape was her heart's true desire? How could that be?**_

" _ **You shouldn't be here," he said, straightening and advancing on her.**_

 _ **Hermione started backing away, but he reached out to grab hold of her. Something in her mind screamed that it was a very bad idea for them to touch, just as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm. Bright white light engulfed them, shooting through her like acid in her veins. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. In that moment, she saw years of interactions with the master spy, but from a slightly different perspective. She watched him defend them all, putting himself between them and harm without any reward other than their blame and suspicion. The silk of his voice wrapped around her, reminding her of her hormone driven fantasies in sixth year, his Defence lectures running through her head as he drew her in and wove a spell over her imagination.**_

 _ **She was taken back to the long weeks after the battle when she'd aided Professor Slughorn in healing him, playing nursemaid while Harry worked to clear his name. He'd been surly and rude, but from time to time there had been some softness in his expression. A million tiny looks and touches were re-lived and suddenly she realized that her great depth of respect for the man had somehow changed into something else entirely.**_

" _ **What have you done?" he whispered as he released her, staggering back and falling to the floor. "What in the name of Merlin have you done?" He was pale and starring in abject horror at the twisted silver lines wrapping around his left ring finger.**_

" _ **I don't know what you mean…" she whispered, feeling something burning the skin of her hand. She had the exact same silvery lines wrapping around her ring finger too. Something was very wrong.**_

" _ **We'll speak in the morning, for now….get out!" He gestured sharply and Hermione was hurled from his dream.**_

Hermione came to in her own bed, sitting up in the darkness gasping as if she'd run a marathon. Pain in her left hand drew her eyes to it and she shook her head in disbelief. The silver lines from the dream were there, exactly where a wedding band would sit. Dread started to wrap around her, and she wondered what exactly had happened. The book hadn't mentioned anything about this. Dear sweet Merlin, Snape was going to kill her.

o.o.O.o.o

"So let me get this straight, Miss Granger." Snape was pacing in front of her chair, stalking back and forth like a giant predatory cat. "You found a lonely hearts potion, spent all of two seconds researching it, and then took it, all without a single thought about the possible myriad consequences of such a selfish, dim-witted action? Did it ever occur to you that the reason there was so little information in that book was because it was the translation of a translation and was meant to be used purely as a reference text? Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" If eyes could set object ablaze, Hermione was completely certain she'd be a pile of ash right now.

"Sir, I didn't think there could be any harm…" she trailed off, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. "Honestly, I would never set out to hurt someone, much less you." For the past two hours she'd had to listen to him lecture her about exactly what she'd done to them with her little potion. It was not a spell to find true love, but a spell to bind two lonely hearts together so that they might find love together. The title had been a poor English translation, of a German translation, of the original Greek. He'd found the original text in the Headmaster's private library and discovered the depths of the hell she'd bound them into.

"Now Severus, there's nothing to be done for it," Phineas Black finally interjected. "However poorly thought out her actions were, the spell is irreversible. You must marry and finalize the bond, before it steals the magic from you both," the previous Headmaster said, as if it were the more reasonable thing in the world.

"I can't marry him! He would kill me the first week!" Hermione blurted out, feeling a wave of dizziness hit her. She was only nineteen years old. There was no way in hell she was getting married because she'd made some ridiculous mistake. Merlin, what had she been thinking!

"As tempting a solution as that is to our current predicament, sadly your little spell renders me incapable of harming you maliciously," Severus said drily, walking around his desk to sit down and looking incredibly weary. "Headmaster Black is correct. We have a matter of months to marry and cement the bond you've instigated, or we'll be rendered squibs. As reprehensible as I'm sure the idea is for you, I do hope it's marginally more attractive than losing your magic." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You'll sit your NEWTs in six weeks, and to avoid the appearance of impropriety, we will marry after you've graduated. The quieter we can keep this, the better."

Hermione felt like she'd been hit by a confundus charm, and was having a hard time wrapping her head around it. "This idea of marrying you isn't reprehensible, Sir." She wanted him to understand that. "I just wish there was some way to take this back, I never would have done it if I'd known."

"I appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings, Miss Granger, but I assure you it is not necessary. A young woman such as yourself cannot be content to be shackled to someone like me." He sighed. "Please show yourself out. We will discuss this more later, once we've both had adequate time to process our somewhat altered realities."

Hermione stood, hating that she just wanted to cry. He wouldn't even look at her. "Yes Sir." She whispered and fled the Headmaster's tower.

o.o.O.o.o

"You shouldn't be so hard on the girl, it truly was a horrible translation," Phineas said, watching the young Headmaster as he stared out the window.

"She's ruined her whole life." Severus shook his head. "Someone needs to be hard on her, to remind her to think before acting so rashly."

"To my eyes, she seemed more upset about what she did to you than concerned over her own fate," Phineas said, having noticed that Severus' concerns were mostly about how being forced to marry him would impact on the girl.

"Because she's a soft-hearted Gryffindor fool, but in time she will come to hate me for this." He pushed away from the window and fixed a haunted look on the last Slytherin Headmaster. "How long before she comes to loathe the mere sight of me?"

"Why are you so certain she will? On the surface you're a surprisingly compatible pair, discounting her relative youth and inexperience with life." Phineas dug a little harder.

"Because I loathe the sight of myself, and I do not deserve someone like her in my life!" he thundered, losing grip on his precious control. "I had my chance Phineas, and I destroyed the witch I loved. I won't survive doing it again. Merlin, I won't survive living through that again." Severus shook his head.

"You care for her." The realization made everything so much clearer to the portrait.

"She saved my life. Is it so strange I should come to feel something for her after that?" He looked as though he'd castigated himself more than once for that fact.

"No. She's a lovely young woman, and very much of age. You have nothing to be ashamed of Severus, and I refuse to sit here and listen to you continue in such a fashion." Phineas sniffed. "Stop snivelling like some homesick Hufflepuff and start acting like the Slytherin I know you are. Her little blunder has given you an advantage, so use it. Use the guilt she feels and the time you have to cultivate whatever feelings she might also have for you." It was patently clear to him that the young witch had some feelings already.

"You think she could come to care for me?" Severus looked as though that was a horribly absurd notion. "Her greasy, nasty, former Potions Master."

"I think it would not take much for her love you, Headmaster Snape. Let her see the brilliant Potions Master who took his mastery examinations at eighteen, the youngest in three centuries to attain such an honour. Acquaint her with your wit and sense of humor. Let her know you, and I suspect that her heart will be in your reach. Forever is a long time to be joined to a witch out of simple duty, trust me on that my young friend," Phineas counselled him. "And if all else fails, I imagine a few rare books will win her over easily enough." That won him a hearty chuckle from Severus, and he was convinced that with some time neither Severus nor the young Gryffindor witch would look back on today with too much regret.

o.o.O.o.o

The next six weeks passed by in a blur as Hermione threw herself into her NEWT preparations with newfound vigor. The Headmaster…Severus…had invited her for tea each Saturday since the 'incident' and she had to admit that her panic over the whole situation was easing. Spending time with him was becoming a welcome escape from the stresses of exams, and his commentary on some of her classmates had more than once reduced her to fits of giggles. It was a huge change from what she'd been expecting after she'd forcibly bound them together. She'd expected hatred and blame, but it was clear that he was trying to make this work.

She'd written her last exam this morning, and it was like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. There was nothing more she could do. All that was left was waiting for her results and worrying over how she'd managed to do. As she sat down at the Gryffindor table, an owl soared down and deposited a package. The box was wrapped with plain brown paper and there was no note. Curiosity piqued, she unwrapped the little box and felt her heart skip a few beats as a blue jeweler's box was revealed. She flicked her eyes up to where he sat at the head table and he just nodded, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Inside the box, nestled on cream silk, was an engagement ring. It was crafted from white gold, and set with a ruby and pearl. She carefully slipped it on, seeing that the intricate band perfectly matched the looping, interwoven lines of the bond mark. It was so beautiful, and her throat closed slightly with the strength of the emotions running through her.

Six weeks ago, she'd been certain that he was going to murder her in her sleep for what she'd done, but now everything was different. Now, Hermione actually wanted to be with him. There was an old saying that you couldn't judge a book by its cover, and never had she known anyone that applied to more than Severus. He was not the most attractive man, though these days he looked younger from the sheer absence of the stress that Voldemort and Headmaster Dumbledore had heaped onto his shoulders. He was not especially easy to deal with, and could be cruel without much effort, but under all of that was a depth of emotion and motivation that no one ever suspected had existed. He was loyal, dedicated, and braver than he liked to admit to. Under the veneer of nastiness, he truly was a good man.

o.o.O.o.o

"Luna, I need to ask you a favour," Hermione said, sitting across from the blonde Ravenclaw. She'd begged for a little privacy from Neville and Ginny, and after some cajoling they had left the two girls alone.

"I'd be happy to be your maid of honour, I wonder that you took so long to ask." The pretty blonde smiled.

"You knew?" Hermione blinked. No matter how long she'd known Luna, every now and then the quiet Ravenclaw would come out with something out of the blue that just seemed to solidly hit the mark.

"Of course, I saw the silver lines weaving around you both. It's quite pretty actually, I imagine after the wedding it will be even more beautiful." She smiled.

"We're going to the Ministry for a simple ceremony next week," she said.

"No, you need to be married outside, under the sky." Luna shook her head. "I'll handle everything, don't worry…it will be simply perfect."

Hermione was a little unsure about that, but nodded. "Alright Luna."

"I'm so glad you finally found the right person to love, I've been quite worried for you." Luna reached over and took her hand.

"Love…" Her eyes widened.

"Oh, didn't you realize? Sorry, I didn't realize you were still keeping secrets from yourself. I won't say anything until you're ready." Luna patted her hand and then sat back against the seat, humming a tune that only she could hear.

Hermione just watched her warily, unsure what to think. She didn't love Severus, did she?

o.o.O.o.o

Despite her fears about letting Luna arrange her bonding ceremony, it really was beautiful. The Lovegoods had offered use of their garden, and the decorations were tasteful. Initially, Hermione had just intended to get a nice simple dress that she could perhaps wear again, wanting to be practical, but the last person she'd ever expected had shown up to take her dress shopping. Narcissa Malfoy had all but kidnapped her and dragged her to Paris, citing her prerogative as Severus' surrogate family. Out of necessity, the wedding was only going to be a handful of people that could be trusted to keep things quiet. Neither Hermione nor Severus wanted or needed the bad press that was sure to follow, and they wanted to have a few weeks of peace and quiet before word got out.

The dress Narcissa had talked her into was truly the most beautiful thing she'd ever worn. It was white satin, with a boned bodice that nipped in at the waist and flared out gently from her hips. The straps were off the shoulder, leaving the long line of her neck bare, and after a generous amount of hair potion and charms, her wild curls had been tamed up into a sleek French twist. Xenophilius was kind enough to stand in for her absent father, and she found herself gripping his hand tightly as he walked her towards the altar, where Severus, the Ministry Official, and their witnesses waited. Lucius was standing up with Severus as his best man, and Narcissa stood with Draco to the side. Luna and Neville stood on her side of the room, the only ones she'd had the courage to tell about this. She'd been too afraid of Harry and Ron's reactions to risk upsetting the delicate peace between her and Severus right now.

Merlin he looked handsome. Severus was wearing soft grey robes, edged in white. His intense black eyes were locked onto her as she walked towards him. The air around him fairly vibrated with tension, and in that moment she realized he was nervous. The man was normally a picture of calm and serenity, even in the face of certain death, but right now he looked utterly unsettled. She reached out and took his hand, letting Luna's father move to join his daughter and her fiancé.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Severus asked her quietly, pausing before walking them up to the altar.

"Yes, I am." She was able to meet his eyes without hesitation. Luna was right, she did love him. As unlikely as that was, it was true and she could feel that in her heart. She let him see the emotion in her eyes, needing him to understand.

He looked stunned by that revelation.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked him, just as quietly.

"I am certain," he said, squeezing her hand to reassure her.

In that moment, Hermione realized the true source of his nervousness. He'd been afraid not of her, but for her. Somehow, he'd come to love her too and was frightened of trapping her in this marriage, simply to save their magic. It would likely take a long time before he was able to admit it, even to himself, but it didn't matter. She knew and that was enough. If he needed time, she'd happily give it to him, because it was better than worrying about him finding a way to get rid of her after all. Besides, marrying the Headmaster of Hogwarts would give her access to more of the books she loved in the Library she adored. It really was a win win situation.

~Fin


	88. Please

A/N: Written for Round 9 for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short / Prompt: Begging / Word Count: 582

AU – Voldemort wins

Warning – Dark Themes, non-explicit mentions of torture. Seriously, my beta got shudders so read at your own risk.

o.o.O.o.o

"Please."

Always that word. It always cut through him, and shattered his resolve. He tried telling himself that this time he'd say no, but he knew the minute she uttered those words he'd relent. It was so hard to resist, especially when she'd look up at him through those thick eyelashes.

"Please, I just want to go outside for a little while."

It was always just for a little while. The first time had just been ten minutes. Ten minutes of sweating and fretting that they'd be caught, that someone would see, or worse, tell on them. He didn't blame her. It was impossible to blame her for wanting out of that cold, dark cell, even for a few minutes outside. The risks were high enough for her, but for him they were even more deadly.

"Please Draco. You can disillusion me, no one will catch us. Just please, I need out for just a little while."

Every word stabbed deep into his soul, and he knew that like each time before, he'd relent. Draco walked over to the slit in the door and looked in. She was just a shell of the girl he'd known at Hogwarts, the remnants of what the Dark Lord had left behind after his victory. He'd broken her down, passed her around the ranks until her fight and fire had been stomped out. Morbid curiosity made him wonder sometimes who had been the one to finally break her. Especially because she'd lasted much longer than the others.

He remembered her spitting defiantly into Dolohov's face after the Dark Lord had gifted her to the Russian first. Her screams still haunted his nightmares, so much worse than anyone else's. All the others had lasted mere minutes before begging for the pain to end, begging for death or oblivion. Only she had remained stubbornly silent, enduring whatever they did to her with a stony resolve.

It had taken a year for them to reduce her to this, and even now he wasn't sure why the Dark Lord had brought her here. His father had been ordered to keep her alive, but to ensure that she remained locked in her cell at all times. He'd come down here that first night, driven by curiosity.

"Draco, please…I know you're there. Just say something, anything. Sometimes I feel like I'm going insane."

"I'm here Granger," he said quietly. "I can't take you out now, but I'll come back later tonight when everyone's asleep. Ok?" He gave in, like he knew he would.

"Thank you," she whispered, her breath catching a little.

"Don't cry…please," Draco said softly, hating it when she cried. The Granger he knew would never have lowered herself to that.

"I'm sorry…I'll stop. Just please come back tonight."

He could hear her swallowing thickly, and a bit of disgust twisted through him at hearing evidence of her weakness. This wasn't the Granger he knew. That girl was gone, killed by Dolohov, or Yaxley, or even perhaps his own father. They'd all had their turn at breaking her, and he just wasn't brave enough to ask who'd been the one to do it.

"I'll be back tonight, we can go down by the water. You'll like it there," he promised. With a troubled heart, he turned and walked away, her whispered pleas for him to stay and talk to her falling on deaf ears. Even if he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to help her now.

~Fin


	89. What is Right

Written for Round Ten of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: An Important Announcement / Word Count: 403

Slight AU set after the second wizarding war.

o.o.O.o.o

There were times when doing the right thing was both liberating and terrifying. Kingsley stood tall at the podium, gripping the edges tightly to try and keep his composure. For the first time in his adult life, the Wizengamot had reached a decision that was morally right, even though the public reception was doubtlessly going to be less than positive. The press was gathered, having been informed of a very important announcement today, and now all that remained was actually delivering it.

He took a sip of water from his glass, and cleared his throat. "Thank you for being here today. As your newly elected Minister of Magic, I stand before you today to keep one of the promises I made during the election. I swore to enact serious reforms to our justice system, and today I wish to announce two new laws that were passed today in a special session. The first is dedicated to the memory of Sirius Black, and guarantees the rights of anyone accused of a crime to competent legal representation, and the right to a trial before an impartial panel of the Wizengamot. Never again will we send an innocent witch or wizard to the horrors of Azkaban." He paused for a moment, pleased with the immediate applause from the gathered crowd. Yes, it was always better to start with the good news.

"The second law is to amend sentencing in situations where it can be proved that the guilty party was acting under extreme duress." This was the part that was not going to go over well. "No person should be held totally responsible for acting under the threat of death, or the death of a family member. We have also added provisions to the criminal code to amend sentencing for offenders that were under-aged at the time they committed a crime." Kingsley took a measured breath. "These amendments will be applied retroactively, and all current inmates at Azkaban prison will have their cases reviewed by a special council to determine if they qualify for a reduction of their sentence."

The explosion of sound would have shaken a lesser man, but Kingsley stood tall and unaffected. He remembered what Dumbledore had once said. There came a point in everyone's life when they were faced with a choice between what was right, and what was easy. He was going to do what was right, and damn the consequences.

~Fin


	90. Working for Him

Written for Round Ten of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short Story / Prompt: Job Interview / Word Count: 1319

Tagging it as AU, though it fits with facts in Canon. Lucius Malfoy was pardoned after the Battle of Hogwarts along with his wife and son, and Hermione did start working at the Ministry in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. Enjoy!

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione checked her robes for the third time and tried not to fidget in her chair. This was possibly the most important interview of her life. A spot had opened up in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, and she was determined to get it. There had been six people interviewing ahead of her, and each one had left the office at the end of the hall looking pale and walking quickly. She'd been told only that she'd be interviewed by the Department Head, but checking the Ministry Index had given no indication as to the new Department Head's identity, only that the position had been recently reassigned when Mr. Bergis had retired.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No matter what lay on the other side of that door, she _was_ the most qualified person for the position. No one had scored higher on their NEWTs than she had, and she was Hermione Bloody Granger, war heroine and the brains of the Golden Trio. She could do this. What was one interview after having faced off against Death Eaters?

"Miss Granger? The Department Head will see you now." The Secretary's pleasant voice startled her from her internal monologue.

"Thank you," she said and stood, summoning a brave smile. The door at the end of the hallway seemed ominous and her heart felt like it was trying to crawl up into her throat. She placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it, pushing it open and stopping dead in the doorway.

Sitting at the immaculately organized desk was a man she had not laid eyes on since the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd read about Lucius Malfoy's pardon in the papers, but he'd been a ghost politically for the last three years. How had he managed to get back into the Ministry at all, never mind into the seat of a Department Head.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Please, do come in and shut the door behind you, then we'll get started." Lucius welcomed her, his tone supremely professional and almost pleasant. Hermione didn't trust it for a moment.

"Mr. Malfoy, I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said before closing the door and taking the seat he offered her.

"I imagine not." A small grin turned up the corner of his mouth. "However, when Harold retired without much warning, the Minister was forced to reach out to someone who had experience in running such a large and varied department." He met her eyes, as if daring her to say anything.

"How fortunate you were willing to step in on such short notice." Hermione said evenly. She highly doubted that Mr. Bergis had left completely of his own wishes.

"Indeed. Now, at first blush, I can see that your qualifications far outstrip the other applicants. Congratulations on such an outstanding showing on your NEWTs," Lucius complimented her, eyes going down to the open folder on his desk for a moment. "Record scores on most of your tests, with the exception of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Given my knowledge of your practical experience in that area, I believe we can discount that one result."

"That's very generous of you," Hermione saidy a bit tenuously, not entirely sure what his game was here.

"As was your testimony at my son's hearing." Lucius looked up suddenly, grey eyes pinning her to the spot with the sudden intensity in them. "Tell me why you wish to work in this Department, Miss Granger. Given your well-earned reputation, you could have chosen any department in the Ministry, even the Minister's personal office."

"Because I want to make a difference, and I feel that I could work to improve the lives of sentient magical beings by being here." She decided to be honest with him - the worst thing that could happen would be that he could laugh in her face.

"Ah yes, I heard something about a rather misguided quest to liberate the Hogwarts House Elves." His lips quirked in obvious amusement.

"I see nothing misguided about wanting to help beings I believed to be enslaved." She coloured a little in resentment. She knew that her approach had been ham-handed and horribly naïve, but her heart had been in the right place. "In my defence, the first House Elves I came to know were Dobby and Winky."

Lucius nodded. "Yes, I can see how those two particular creatures would skew one's world view. I would then ask what you believe now, since your wording infers that your opinions have since changed."

Hermione took a moment to compose her thoughts, considering what to say. She still believed that there were things to be done to improve the lives of House Elves, but she had come to realize that the relationships between the magical community and the elves was far more complex and ancient than she'd realized initially. "I believe that there are things we could do to ensure that House Elves are not mistreated and their contributions to our world appreciated, but I know that wholesale liberation could cause a lot of harm. I suppose I understand now that there is still a lot for me to learn," she admitted.

"And that, Miss Granger, is perhaps the smartest thing I have ever heard you say," Lucius said, leaning back in his chair as he considered her. "One more question and I ask that you be perfectly candid. Can you work for me? I would understand if the answer was no, and if so I will happily recommend you to another Department where I am sure you would distinguish yourself quite admirably."

Hermione looked at the man and found herself nodding. "I believe that I can, if you feel that you can work with me, despite your view of people from my background." She decided to address the hippogriff in the room.

"If I did not feel I could work with you, Miss Granger, I would not have granted you this interview." Lucius said simply. "You are intelligent, articulate, and have a certain determination that I can admire. My views are my own, and they need not impact our professional relationship. So, shall I have Miriam draw up an employment contract, or would you prefer I recommend you to another department?" He lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Call it her Gryffindor brashness, or just plain stupidity, but she found herself nodding. "I look forward to working with you, Mr. Malfoy."

"As you wish then." He reached for a stamp on his desk and tagged her file with 'Hired', before setting it aside and reaching for another folder. "I will be starting you off as a general department clerk. It will allow you to work between the three divisions and we'll decide where you fit best at a later date. Your salary will start at 80 galleons per month, which is standard for a newly hired ministry employee. You will have quarterly performance reviews, and at the end of twelve months you become eligible for benefits and advancement within the Department." He handed the folder to her. "Inside is a copy of the employee conduct code, regulations, and your work schedule. Please stop and see my secretary on the way out as she'll have some forms for you to sign."

Hermione accepted the folder and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"You were simply the most qualified for the position, Miss Granger," he said simply, his expression carefully schooled.

Hermione nodded and left the office. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd given her this position as some sort of repayment for her help at Draco's trial, despite his statements otherwise. It left her feeling very off balance, especially since he had not behaved the way she'd expect Lucius Malfoy to. She was excited that she'd gotten the job, but a little worried about working for a man like him.

~Fin


	91. Who Am I Now?

Written for Round Ten of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short / Prompt: [Pairing] McGonagall/Snape / Word Count: 819

AU- Snape Lives.

o.o.O.o.o

"I don't want the job, Minerva." Severus sighed, shaking his head a little and looking down into the tumbler of whiskey she'd pressed into his hand. "Is it so hard for everyone to understand that I simply wish to fade into obscurity and have a little peace?" Waking up in his old quarters after the Battle of Hogwarts had felt like some horrendous joke. Sadly, he wasn't laughing and things had not improved since then either. He'd been touted as some sort of bloody war hero, and then informed that he was expected to resume his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Unfortunately, it's not just about what you want. You know as well as I do that a Headmaster can only be removed by death, or by betraying their oaths to the castle." Minerva arched an eyebrow at him.

"I did betray those oaths!" he snarled and stood in a violent movement stalking back and forth in front of the fire. "I allowed those monster to torture students, I ran this place like a prison. I do not deserve to be here."

"Hogwarts seems to disagree with you, Severus," Minerva said gently, compassion softening her usually severe features. "When you resigned, she barred entry to everyone. Clearly, the castle believes you did the best you could to protect the students in an impossible situation. I am sorry I didn't realize the truth until Mr. Potter told me what you'd done for us all." Regret coloured her tone and was clearly evident on the Head of Gryffindor's face.

Severus seemed to slump, not having the energy yet to sustain that much anger. He was still healing from his wounds, and Poppy would have his hide if his theatrics derailed his recovery. "You were not supposed to know; no one was ever meant to know the truth. It would have meant my death if anyone had suspected, even for a moment that I was not exactly what I appeared to be; a loyal Death Eater and a murderer." He walked over to the window, looking out across the grounds.

Repairs to the castle were well underway, the entire community coming together to restore the school before September. It had been something for them all to rally around, a way to begin healing. He closed his eyes as his head fell forwards, his forehead resting against the cool glass. Severus used that moment to compose himself and center his mind. "Will you accept your previous position as Deputy Headmistress?" he asked quietly.

"Of course, and I'll be here to help you with anything you might need." Minerva stood and walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Horace, Filius, Pomona, and I, have all agreed to stay on and help get things back on track. Try not to look at this like a something being forced upon you, but rather as a way to reform the school so we never again create a Dark Lord within these walls."

Severus nodded, opening his eyes and looking back out into the darkness. "I'm tired of being the villain Minerva, but I worry that I don't know how to be anything else. I've been playing a role for so long, I can't remember who Severus Snape really is."

Minerva patted his shoulder. "Come and sit back down, you're supposed to be taking it easy," she said, a motherly tone entering her voice. Once he was settled back down, she handed him one of his pain potions and retook her seat. "I've known you since you were eleven years old, and over the years I've come to know several different versions of Severus Snape…but under it all, the real you was the same. I saw you grow from the shy uncertain boy into an angry and bitter teenager, then into to a young wizard with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You were always brilliant, and I think under that prickly exterior you have a surprisingly tender heart. You're a good man Severus, better than any of us knew. Perhaps, it's time to let the rest of the wizarding world see that side of you."

He snorted a little. "Merlin's arse, a tender heart? How much whiskey have you had this evening? Do not try and turn me into some simpering Hufflepuff, or misunderstood tragic hero."

"Merlin forbid," she said sagely, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Circe save him from meddlesome Gryffindor witches. There was some merit in her advice, despite his derision. How many times had he railed against Albus' decisions and sworn he could do better? Maybe this was the chance to actually make changes and improve the school. He took a sip of the smooth alcohol and let his mind wander. If he was bound by his oaths to the school to remain as Headmaster, he would endeavor to be one of the greatest the school had ever known.

~Fin


	92. The Green Graphorn

**Written for Round Ten of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Category: Themed [Green] / Prompts: December 24th & Former Enemies / Word Count: 2528**

 **A/N: This is my last entry for Year Two of the Houses Competition, I had a lot of fun & much love to my teammates in AU post Battle of Hogwarts, and if you're interested, Batty-Fang is Victorian Slang for 'to thrash thoroughly'**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 _ **December 24**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2002**_

Antonin tugged the hood of his cloak down over his face, as he slipped into Knockturn Alley. Ever since the end of the war, the dodgier places had been stamped out by the Ministry, but it was still the home of one of the best damn watering holes in the Wizarding World. There was snow falling lightly, dusting the grimy surfaces of the Alley, hiding the rot and decay under a blanket of white. Here and there flashes of green caught the eye, pine boughs over windows and the waxy green of holly leaves adorning a wreath. His eyes sought out a familiar sign, swaying slightly in the breeze. The wood was weathered, paint peeling a little in places, but the emblem of The Green Graphorn was unmistakable; a drunken troll was balanced precariously on top of a brilliant emerald green graphorn, hoisting a tankard of ale.

He knocked at the door and a section of it disappeared, revealing a burly wizard who glared at him. "Password."

"Batty-fang," Antonin smirked.

The door opened and he slipped in out of the cold, taking a seat on one of the dark corners to avoid anyone recognizing him. An ale was quickly brought over to him and paid for in short order. He was a free man, in a manner of speaking, but that didn't mean that the Wizarding World at large was in the mood to forgive and forget. The Minister of Magic had passed a law giving new trials to all the convicted Death Eaters after the fiasco of Lucius Malfoy's public trial. It had cast an uncomfortable light on the reality that many of the Dark Lord's followers had been all but press-ganged into service, many of them as teenagers or forced by family under threats of torture or worse. His own trial had resulted in him being sentenced to five years of magical probation, shackled with something akin to the Trace placed on underaged wizards. Any magic he did was recorded in an office in the Ministry, and every month he had to meet with a clerk to review anything questionable. Any major slip would land his ass straight back in Azkaban fast than he could say 'Auror'.

As he sipped his ale, his eyes wandered over to the bar, and he nearly did a double take. What in the name of Circe's knotted knickers was Hermione bloody Granger doing in a place like this, on Christmas Eve no less? The witch's chestnut curls were unmistakable, even as she tried to hide under the hood of her dark forest green cloak. Every now and then, he could see her profile as she nursed a mug of something. The girl was a blinking war hero, the sainted Golden Girl, and Antonin couldn't think of a single reason for her to be in a sleazy place like this. How had she even gotten inside? He summoned up a bit of nerve and stood, heading over to the bar and taking a seat beside her.

"Not to sound clichéd, but what on earth is a witch like you doing in a place like this?" Antonin asked, leaning against the well-worn bar top. The wood had been painted green once, but only scattered remnants of it remained, the rest of the wood rubbed down by countless patrons over the years.

She turned her head and looked at him, hostility and resignation warring in her eyes. "The same thing you're doing here, drinking and trying not to be noticed," she answered finally, lifting her mug and taking a long sip.

"Unlike me, you've got friends…a life, it's Christmas Eve." He found that he was actually curious about the witch he'd once nearly killed. He knew she'd been involved with the Minister's push to give new trials to all the Death Eaters. He knew from the papers she'd attended many of the trials personally, but he'd not seen a trace of her at his. It was strange, and Antonin didn't like anomalies.

"Friends who have families of their own to be with tonight, and even with you here, this beats drinking at home alone with my cat...barely," she added.

He nodded quietly and signalled the bartender to bring them another round. "Well…Happy Christmas then, I'm sorry I nearly killed you."

Hermione looked suspicious but a nodded, saluting him with her fresh tankard. "Happy Christmas Dolohov, sorry I obliviated you that one time."

He chuckled a little, trying very hard not to notice how the green of her cloak brought out the little flecks of gold in her eyes. "It beat what your friend wanted to do, so it's forgiven." He shrugged, not pressing her for conversation as if sensing that some quiet solidarity was probably what she wanted.

They spoke little, and Antonin watched as she used the bar's floo to leave, just a little after midnight. He wondered if he'd ever see her again, and found somehow that he hoped he would.

o.o.O.o.o

 _December 24_ _th_ _, 2003_

"Password?" The voice at the door drawled.

"Batty-fang," Hermione rolled her eyes a little as the heavy door was opened and she slipped in out of the cold. It had been a long day at the Ministry, and she was mentally wrung out. Most of her department was off for the Holiday and just like last year, she'd volunteered to man the desk.

She'd been resisting the urge to return to the Green Graphorn since last Christmas Eve, when she'd run across the man who still had a starring role in her nightmares. Finding herself face to face with him had shaken her, but also made her see that he was just a man, under all the horrible crimes and misdeeds. If she was really honest with herself, it had been cowardice that had kept her from coming back here, but tonight she needed the privacy and anonymity the bar offered. Any other place in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade was just too public, and her face would end up splashed over the pages of the Daily Prophet, more so now because she and Ron had gotten into a very public argument at one of Ginny's matches last month. The vultures were on high alert for any juicy gossip about her right now, and she just wanted a pint and maybe something to eat.

Hermione headed for a little table off to the side, pushing the hood of her green cloak back as she sat. Here, no one here cared who she was and she could just be a regular patron.

"Been a while, they treatin' you ok at the Minstry?" Old Harg came over with a pint of dark lager for her.

"Just really busy, but I think I'll be back a bit more now. What's on offer for food tonight?" she asked, taking a sip of her beer and resisting urge to sigh.

"There's a potato and leek soup, or roast chicken and greens?" he offered her a choice.

"Soup please," she said, and when he headed off she spotted a familiar figure at the bar hunched over a pint. He looked rougher than she remembered, jacket a bit more threadbare, a green scarf wrapped around his neck. He hadn't spotted her yet, so she could just ignore him, but something in her gut made her call out.

"Dolohov?"

His head turned and he looked surprised. "Miss Granger," he said in greeting, grabbing his pint and heading over.

"Would you like to join me?" she offered, seeing that he did honestly look awful. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He clearly wasn't sleeping well.

"I won't be very good company," he warned, but at her nod he slipped into the seat across from her.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I just got news that my mum passed, back in Russia," he said quietly.

"I'm very sorry," she expressed her condolences. It was difficult news at any time, but especially this time of year. The holidays were always the worst for bad news. "Are you going home for the funeral?" she enquired.

"I can't. The Russian Ministry denied my request, citing my convictions here." He raked a hand through his messy black curls. "I'm free…but I'm not." He leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "I did warn you I'd be horrible company."

"Well you're not hurling hexes at me, so you still beat drinking with my cat." Hermione found herself teasing him, not sure where it was coming from. She hadn't gone to his trial, but Kingsley had given her the transcripts. It had humanized him in a way that she still had a hard time processing. It had been easy to hate him when he'd been the monster in her nightmares, not so much now that she knew he'd joined the Death Eaters to protect his sister from Mulciber and McNair, only to have her brutally murdered a mere year later. He'd been sixteen, and her death had changed something in him.

"I'll take what I can get, I suppose," he answered, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement.

"Happy Christmas, Dolohov. I'm sorry about your mother," she said sincerely. As she looked into his eyes, she realized they were actually green. It wasn't the startling Avada Kedavra green of Harry's eyes, but darker, sitting somewhere between hunter and moss green. There were tiny flecks of brown in them, putting her in mind of the Forbidden forest.

"Happy Christmas, Miss Granger. I'm sorry you don't have anyone better to drink with on Christmas Eve." He winked at her and saluted her with his beer.

o.o.O.o.o

 _December 24_ _th_ _, 2004_

"What exactly is that?" Hermione gave the green substance in her glass a very dubious look.

Antonin chuckled a little. "It's called Absinthe. Trust me, you'll like it." After their last Christmas Eve here, they'd come to an unspoken arrangement, meeting at the Green Graphorn every Friday night for drinks and little careful conversation. He suspected that she felt sorry for him, and that perhaps it was just a way to convince herself that she wasn't as desperately lonely as everyone seemed to think she was.

"Trust you?" She gave him a dubious look, and eyed the glass again. "Alright, I'll try it…just this once."

He chuckled and grabbed sugar cube, setting it on top of a slotted spoon and laying it across the rim of her glass. He lit the sugarcube on fire, then dripped water over it until the clear green liquor turned cloudy. He stirred the sugar into the drink and handed it to her.

Hermione took a tentative sip and then a slightly bigger one. "Wow…that's got bite." She blinked rapidly.

"Give it a minute, it'll hit you good. They don't call it the Green Faerie for nothing." He did his own drink. "So, congratulations Miss New Under-Secretary to the Minister. I bet your promotion has everyone's knickers in a right twist."

Hermione snorted. "Everyone's torn between being green with jealousy, or absolutely certain that I'm sleeping with Kingsley." She rolled her eyes. "And I swear if Rita Skeeter comes anywhere near me between now and New Years, I'm going to stuff that acid green quill somewhere unmentionable."

Antonin laughed heartily. "I do love seeing your vicious streak. How is that everyone thinks you're this little goody-two-shoes?"

"Are you implying I'm not?" She raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a look of pure sweetness and light.

"I'm not implying shit, I'm stating it outright. You, Hermione Granger, are the scariest witch I've ever had the pleasure of knowing; brilliant…but utterly bloody terrifying." He tapped his glass for a refill.

"You're so full of it." She rolled her eyes.

"Let's recount shall we? You stole valuable potions ingredients from your Professor at the oh so tender age of 13." He winked at her. One night, after too many pints, she'd shared that little gem. He could almost imagine Severus' face. "Then you trapped an animagus in a glass jar for a solid month, letting her go only after blackmailing her into silence. You formed an illegal underground army, and placed a nasty curse on the parchment you made all those poor unsuspecting students sign. Then you basically handed that crazy bat Umbridge to the Centaurs, and don't think I don't know you secretly hoped they'd kill her."

"You can stop anytime." She raised an eyebrow, doing her best impression of a wet cat.

"You also broke into the Ministry and destroyed hundreds of irreplaceable prophecies, was Undesirable #2 on the Ministry's wanted list, and dabbled in some questionable magic while on the run. Oh, and let's not forget that you destroyed half of Gringotts." He was laughing openly now, as she scowled and downed her second shot of the potent green liquor.

"I'll have you know, each and every one of those things was done for good reason." She poked him in the chest.

"You know you're damned gorgeous when you get all worked up like that," he said, his expression softening a little. Arguing with her was like baiting a dragon; dangerous as hell, but damned exciting.

Hermione blushed darkly. "I…I should go…" She hurried to try and get up, but found she couldn't.

Antonin frowned and then looked up and started laughing. "Don't look now, but seems like Old Harg's playing matchmaker." Up in the air over their heads, a delicate green sprig of mistletoe had sprung into existence.

"Damn him…" she muttered, looking down at the bar.

"Don't tell me the Gryffindor Princess is afraid of a little kiss?" He tilted his head to the side. "I'll even promise to be mostly a gentleman about it." He reached out and very carefully brushed his fingers against her cheek. Somewhere over the last year, he'd started feeling something for the younger witch. It was wildly inappropriate, Merlin knew he was old enough to be her father and that wasn't even taking into account the number of times he'd nearly killed her, but he couldn't deny it either.

Hermione lifted her eyes then and closed the distance between them, initiating the kiss. Antonin was caught off guard by the sudden bold move, but didn't push her away. Her lips tasted sweet, the lingering anise flavour from the absinthe playing on his tongue. After a long moment, he drew back, stunned by the look in her eyes. He was shocked to realize that she wanted him too.

"Happy Christmas Antonin, but I'm not sorry about the kiss," Hermione said softly.

"Maybe, this year you'll let me spend more than just Christmas Eve with you," he answered and cupped her cheek.

"About bloody time." Old Harg muttered as he wandered past, grabbing their empty glasses and wiping down the bar. "What are you two still sitting there for? Take the little witch home you daft bugger." He shooed them along.

Antonin chuckled and tossed some coin onto the bar, standing and offering Hermione his hand. This year, they'd leave together. He didn't know when they'd moved from enemies to something more, but now that they had he wasn't about to let her go.

~Fin


	93. The Last Malfoy

Written for the 3rd Bonus Round of the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Theme: First experience or first time doing something. Prompt: Meeting a long-lost family member./ Word Count:1909

AU: When Voldemort discovers Narcissa's lie, he kills Draco. This is a Dramione, and therefore not canon compliant. Takes place in February, 2000.

o.o.O.o.o

It had been harder to track her down than anticipated, though that fact shouldn't have surprised Lucius. There had been little tying her to Britain after the war. Given how many roadblocks had been thrown up by Mr. Potter during the search, her friendship with him was still as strong as ever, but no one else had seemed to know where she had gone. The horrors of the war had taken their toll on both sides, and the losses had been astronomical. He couldn't blame her for wanting a fresh start, nor for wanting to hide the obvious reason for her departure from Wizarding Britain.

Lucius wiped the sweat from his forehead, mentally cursing the Australian heat. He'd never been to this part of the world before, and the intense heat was something he was most certainly not accustomed to. His quarry was sitting on a colourful blanket she'd spread out over the grass and playing with a child that could only be her son. The child was the right age, only two years old, and Lucius' heart instantly softened. The boy had white blonde curls and was laughing as his mother made his building blocks levitate and spin around him. He looked so much like Draco had at that age.

Just thinking about his son was like a blade in his heart. He'd buried his son the day after the final battle, the Dark Lord's punishment for Narcissa's lie. His wife had fallen soon after, and a part of him wondered if she'd just stopped fighting out of grief. He'd been incarcerated immediately following the funeral, but they'd allowed him to keep his son's journal. In those pages, he'd read about the secret and unlikely relationship between his son and this witch. In the last pages he'd seen the briefest mention of her pregnancy, and Draco's intention to marry her to protect her reputation.

It had shed a great deal of light on the reactions of his son at the manor when Bellatrix had tortured this girl, and it explained the tampering with the Manor's wards that had allowed them to escape. Dobby had once been Draco's elf, and only his son could have altered the wards to allow the creature inside. The girl had been carrying his grandchild while she'd bled onto the floor of the Manor's drawing room. The knowledge had sickened him. He'd been pardoned after his trial, and then he'd dedicated his time and energies into finding the witch his son had loved so very much. Now, he stood at the edge of her wards and was at a complete loss for what to do next. He'd been searching for his lost grandchild, and now he was just a few feet away. Never in his life had he felt so uncertain, certainly a first for him.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" The witch's voice cut through his indecision, her careful brown eyes locked onto him, somehow managing to see him, despite the disillusionment charm he'd been hiding under. With the casual flick of his wand, Lucius dispelled it and approached carefully. The wards parted to allow him entry, and he nodded to her respectfully. 

"My apologies, Miss Granger, I did not mean to lurk."

The witch scooped her son up, balancing him on her hip. Her expression was quite closed. "What are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I read Draco's journals, after…" He didn't elaborate, the sadness that passed through her eyes at the mere mention of his son's name confirmed what Draco had written. She had loved him. "I needed to find you." He hoped that she would understand.

"Why?" she pressed, and Lucius noted that her wand was drawn, hidden in a fold of her dress. Lucius approved of her caution.

"Because your son is the only family I have left now, and my son very much had wanted to make you part of our family, officially," Lucius said quietly. "It took a very long time to find you, Miss Granger."

Some of the tension seemed to leave her. "Would you like to come inside for some lemonade?" she asked.

"I would like that." He inclined his head.

Hermione shifted her son a bit on her hip, and carried him into the house. She hadn't changed much from the girl he remembered, she was still petite and very slightly built, though motherhood had softened her figure a little. Her hair was loose and wild, the chestnut curls highlighted with gold from days spent outside in the sun. Given her muggle background, he was surprised to see no muggle electronics or conveniences of any kind.

"Make yourself comfortable," Hermione said and took her son over to what looked like a little play area. Toys were placed neatly in coloured chests, and there was child-sized bookshelf full of storybooks.

"Mummy down!" the child demanded.

"What do you say first, Lysander?" she prompted him calmly.

"Please," he said after a moment and then his mother set him down. Immediately, he headed over to grab one of his toys.

"He seems like a very sweet child," Lucius remarked as Hermione came over with a cold drink for him.

"He is," Hermione said softly. "I named him Lysander Draco Granger."

"It's a fine name." He was touched that she had followed the naming traditions for the Malfoy family. The first name tended to follow the traditions of the mother's family, clearly like her own name she had turned to the works of Shakespeare, and the middle name was always for the father. "Why did you leave Britain?" he asked her quietly.

"The memories were too hard to face. Also, I was afraid of what people would say about him, and about my relationship with Draco." She sighed. "I wanted to protect my son from the media for as long as I could. My parents are here in Australia, and while they don't remember who I am…I like to keep a close eye on them." She raised her eyes to look at Lucius. "I won't let you take my son from me."

"Nor would I ever try," Lucius said, not dismissing her concerns. "He is my grandson, but he is your son first and foremost. When I first learned of your pregnancy, I admit I was conflicted, but I understand why my son hid his connection to you. You would have been in even more danger than you already were, and I'm sure that it was a decision you reached together."

Hermione nodded. "Things on the run with Harry were hard, and Draco…he did what he could to keep us supplied. I'd only told him about Lysander the week before we were taken to the Manor." Hermione's voice faltered for a moment. "We'd fought horribly over it, but in the end he understood that I needed to see things through. If we didn't stop Voldemort, none of us would ever have a future. I've wondered every day since he died if things would have been different if I'd listened to him, if he'd still be alive."

Lucius saw the tears well up in her eyes, and he offered her a handkerchief. "His death was not your fault, Miss Granger. From what I read, he loved you very much…he would not want you to live the rest of your life blaming yourself for the actions of a madman. I regret that my presence causes you pain, but I would very much like to be a part of Lysander's life…if you would allow it. Draco wanted very much to marry you, and give his son legitimacy, that is something I can also do with your consent," Lucius offered gently. While the Australian magical community was somewhat more progressive than Wizarding Britain, he knew that even here she'd be facing a stigma for being an unwed mother. Back home, it would be even worse.

"What do you mean?"

"There is a ritual that allows me to take you into the family, and on paper it would appear as though you and Draco secretly married during the war. Because it was done illicitly, no papers were ever filed at the Ministry, but the ritual would allow me to name you as my daughter-in-law and make your son the legitimate Malfoy heir. You would retain full rights and custody, but Draco's inheritance would pass into your control and there is also a trust for your son," Lucius said.

"But I'm muggleborn, and your grandson is a half-blood. You can't tell me that you've changed so much that you're happy about that?" Her tone was tight and angry, tiny blue sparks lighting off her curls.

"After everything that has happened, do you really think it matters to me who your parents are? I lost everything in the war, Miss Granger. I lost my wife, whom I loved very much, and my only son. For a time, I also lost my freedom, and for those long months I lived with the knowledge that I had destroyed my family, and a bloodline that had endured for centuries, with my arrogance and bigotry. Men like me are not often given second chances, Miss Granger, so you will forgive me if I don't pass it by because of your background. You are a witch of renowned power and intelligence. You would be an asset to my family, not a shameful secret." Lucius knew how it sounded. For the first time in the entire history of the Malfoy family, a half-blood would inherit the title of Lord Malfoy, and his muggle-born mother would be the undisputed lady of the House until the day her son married.

"You want us to come back to England," Hermione stated, looking stunned.

"Yes. I understand if you cannot stomach returning to the Manor, but there is a lovely home in Dorset that I would give to you, and we would reveal the secret marriage between you and my son. I will handle the press, so that you are not hounded, and make certain your return goes as smoothly as I can make it," he said. "I want to know my grandson, and I believe that this is what Draco would have wanted."

Hermione still looked uncertain, sipping her drink as she mulled over the many implications of such a decision.

"I have never begged for anything in my life, but here…now…I beg you to do this. Please," Lucius pleaded, humbling himself before this witch. His father was likely rolling over in the family crypt at the thought of Lucius begging anything from a mudblood, but there was nothing else to be done.

"You don't need to beg." Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Lysander?" she called her son, her tone brighter as she summoned a smile.

The little boy came running over, clutching a big green dragon plushie in his arms. "Mummy, Dragon goes raaaaaaaaaawr!" he told her.

"Yes it does, sweetheart." She set her drink on the side table and picked her son up, sitting him in her lap. "Lysander, I'd like you meet your Grandfather."

"Grand…" Lysander frowned trying out the unfamiliar word.

"Grandpa," Lucius suggested.

"Hi, Grandpa." Lysander gave him a bright smile.

Lucius couldn't help the answering smile that crossed his face. It had taken two years to find him, but now he was determined to be the very best grandfather he could. He owed Draco's memory that much, if not more.

~Fin


	94. Welcome Back

**A/N: Written for Round One of the Houses Competition, Y3, representing Slytherin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: [Speech] "Welcome back!" / Word Count: 558 (not including A/N)**

 **This is a Snape!Lives AU, and takes place the September following the Battle of Hogwarts. In this AU Harry elects to return to the school to complete his education, in addition to Hermione.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Severus walked down to the podium and looked out over the Great Hall. He had not wanted to return. After his miraculous recovery following the Final Battle, the very last thing he had wanted was to ever step foot inside Hogwarts again. However, it seemed that Hogwarts had different ideas about how he should spend the remainder of his days.

"Welcome back!" He tried to muster some enthusiasm, but it fell somewhat flat and he noticed a few grimaces from students that knew him better. "Welcome to the new students, and welcome back to all of you who have chosen to return. I will not stand here and pretend that the events of last year did not occur, nor do I expect any of you to forget everything that happened. The war that we fought is now over, and the process of healing must begin. We heal by helping our friends, and by supporting one another as we face the challenges and hurdles before us. 

"Look around at the faces at your House table. Now, more than ever, your House must be like your family and every member of that House will need your friendship and loyalty. Observe the faces at the other House tables and remember that while we are all different, when evil came to our gates, we stood beside one another. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. All of us have lost friends and loved ones in defence of this school. They fell to protect our freedom and way of life. We must reach out past traditional rivalries and remember that we have a little bit of every house inside of us." He allowed the tiniest of smiles to cross his lips.

"A Ravenclaw can be loyal, a Hufflepuff can be cunning, a Gryffindor can be clever, and a Slytherin can be brave." His eyes lingered a moment on the pale face of Harry Potter who nodded slightly, giving him the barest smile. "All of your Professors, Heads of House, and even myself are here to assist you this year. If you need anything, even just a friendly ear, our doors are open to you. Help will always be given at Hogwarts, if you but ask for it." He paused a moment, letting his words sink into the silence that had fallen over the Great Hall. "Now, Professor Flitwick, if would care to lead us in the school song, and afterwards the Prefects can lead their Houses off to the Dormitories." Severus ceded the floor to the diminutive Charms Professor.

Severus spared a look over at Minerva, who gave him a small yet heartfelt smile. He was relieved that his speech had not been a complete disaster - he'd been dreading it since being informed that he would not be allowed to resign as Headmaster of Hogwarts. He'd been hated and reviled for his actions during the war, and the necessary act of allowing the Carrows into the school. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was the most hated Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts, and yet perhaps this was his opportunity to right some of those wrongs.

The school song wound down and the sound of laughter filled the air, a sound that had been missing here for a very long time. Severus watched the students filter out, and as the last ones disappeared through the large double doors, he whispered to the empty room.

"Welcome back, indeed."

~Fin


	95. An Inevitable End

Written for the Houses Competition, Y3, representing Slytherin House. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Pairing] Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape / Word Count: 888.

AU: This is a Snape lives AU. Memories are in italics.

o.o.O.o.o

Of all the possible outcomes of the war, this was precisely what Lucius had been dreading most. He stood in the doorway of the dilapidated Shrieking Shack and looked at the figure of his best friend, lying in the dirt and grime. Narcissa had grabbed Draco and apparated him away to safety, but Lucius had needed to know…to see this for himself. The Dark Lord had cut Severus down and left him here like discarded refuse. The senseless death tore at his heart, a pain deeper than even the loss of his wand. A friendship that had defined them both had met its inevitable bloody end. A single tear escaped from his eyes, defying his usual iron control.

The once proud aristocrat forced himself to cross the room and collapsed down to his knees, feeling the cold blood seeping into his pants. He reached out and pressed his fingers to the ruin of Severus' throat and then his heart lurched. There was a faint pulse, fluttering under his fingertips like a dying butterfly. Merciful Merlin, he was still alive. He ran his hands over the front of Severus' robes and found a slender black case tucked into an inner pocket. Merlin bless Severus' paranoia. He opened it and found what he needed, a vial of clear liquid. Inside was a substance that was priceless, and a sure remedy against death if taken in time.

He poured a small amount over the actual wound, the skin beginning to knit together before his very eyes. The rest he carefully poured into Severus' mouth, relief flooding through him as he reflexively swallowed. The next vial he opened was a concentrated blood replenishing potion, and that too was carefully administered, clearly Severus had enough consciousness to get the potions down.

"Don't you dare die on me, you stubborn bastard." He drew a wand he'd claimed during the battle and vanished the blood and filth from around them. It felt foreign in his hand, but it reluctantly yielded to his will. Lucius supposed that it was better than nothing. He conjured a bowl of water and tore a piece of his shirt to clean the blood off Severus' throat, just to make sure that the Phoenix Tears had healed the horrific wound. He let out a shaky breath as only smooth, unblemished skin was revealed.

"You should have let me die." Severus' voice was rough as his eyes opened a tiny bit. The clear sign of life gave Lucius hope.

"Perhaps." Lucius gave him a small wry smile. "But we finish this together, or not at all. Remember?" After he'd been released from Azkaban, Severus had been there. His friend had dragged him from the tattered prison of his own mind, kicking and screaming. He'd given him purpose again, knowing that nothing would motivate him better than the chance to claim some manner of revenge on the Dark Lord. The defilement of his family home and the forcible marking of his only son had been too much to let go. In the deepest hours of the night, as he'd been soaked to the skin after a night terror, he'd whispered into Severus' ear.

" _I know you're protecting the Potter boy, fighting for Lily's son. I will help you. I'll help you destroy him once and for all. I don't care if I die doing it, but I won't let him destroy my family. We'll do it together, and make the bastard regret ever crossing us. Together we can end him."_

"Of course, the one time you actually keep your word, is the one time I wish you hadn't." He closed his eyes again. "Potter, is he alive?"

"Yes and the Dark Lord is destroyed. He did it, against all odds, somehow he did it." Lucius shook his head. "I wonder if his mother didn't feed him liquid luck along with his milk as an infant."

"Bathed him in it, most likely," Severus muttered and then tried to sit up.

"What are you doing?" Lucius gave him an incredulous look. "You do understand that you nearly died!"

"We need to bind his ashes. Potter won't know what to do." He looked at Lucius. "Help me."

Lucius frowned, but finally nodded and wrapped an arm around Severus' bony form. Carefully they stood, with Lucius supporting him. Severus was pale, even for him, but his jaw was tight with determination. "The wards are down, I should be able to apparate us, but our welcome may not be terribly...warm."

"So long as Potter listens to me, it doesn't matter what happens after," he said wearily. "I just want it over with, Lucius."

"Then let's face this, together." Knowing that his son was safe, Lucius no longer had a great care for what would happen to him. His stay in Azkaban had broken something in him and he feared that he'd never be the same wizard again. His friendship with Severus was all he had left; his marriage was in tatters and his son despised him now with good reason. If Severus needed his help to ensure that the Dark Lord was gone forever, he would do it.

"You're a good friend, Lucius," Severus whispered quietly.

"I'm your only friend." Lucius gave him a quick wink, before they disapparated and left the Shrieking Shack behind them.

~Fin


	96. Brios and Bruisepaste

**A/n: Written for the Houses Competition, Y3, representing Slytherin House. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Weather] Heatwave / Word Count: 1064**

 **Set between Severus & Lily's 4th and 5th year. **

o.o.O.o.o

The heat was oppressive, unrelenting, and downright unbearable. It had been going for a week, without any sign of letting up either. The muggle newscasters were calling it the worst heatwave in more than a decade. Personally it felt something like the fifth circle of hell. He was eternally grateful for Lily at times like this. The fan blew air over them as they lay on the cool hardwood floor of her bedroom. Severus' eyes wandered away from his Transfiguration's text to where Lily was chewing on the end of a brio while she frowned at her Charms text. Her hair was gathered up into a messy bun on the top of her head, a few sweaty strands sticking to her neck. Her green tank top left the elegant lines of her neck bare, and he couldn't help but notice just how perfect her skin was.

"Sev, why are you still wearing that? You have to be dying." She looked up at him, eyes flicking over the long sleeved t-shirt he was wearing.

Severus flushed. "Lils…I…"

"Come on, you've seen me in next to nothing." She set her book aside and all but tackled him, wrestling him out of his shirt and then stilling as she saw why he'd been wearing it. She was straddling his waist and her green eyes filled with instant sympathy. "You told me he'd stopped…" Her fingers ghosted over the dark bruises over his ribs.

Shame flooded through him as he sat up and gently moved her off his lap. "He did, for a while." He ran a hand through his sweaty, greasy hair and sighed. "You know I don't like talking about it, Lils…most of the time I just want to forget what happens there." He got up and walked to the window, looking out into the backyard, dark eyes closed off. Severus nearly jumped when Lily came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a gentle hug and resting her cheek against his back.

"You could stay here…I know mum and dad would let you," she offered.

"I can't Lils…I can't leave my mum there alone with *him*." His voice broke a little. Lily's arms just tightened a little around him. Severus placed his hands over hers, looking down at their fingers laced together. "I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you."

"You'll never lose me, Sev," she whispered fiercely.

Severus turned around in the circle of her arms and lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek. His heart was hammering in his chest, stunned when she didn't pull away. She was the only good thing in his life and he was terrified of screwing it up. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Merlin, he'd dreamed about this so many times, but it was nothing to the bliss of her soft lips against his. She pressed her lips against his, returning the kiss. He could taste the strawberry lip balm that she loved to wear, but under it…it was just her.

Severus deepened the kiss, in awe as she opened her lips under his. This had to be a dream, things like this didn't happen to him. His hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer. She dragged her hand up his side and he broke the kiss with a hiss of pain as she shifted his injured ribs.

"Oh god…Sev, I'm sorry," Lily said instantly, worry on her face. "Wait…I've got some bruise paste in my trunk." She moved back as if to go and look for it.

Severus caught her arm and pulled her back. "It can wait," he said and leaned down, kissing her again softly this time. "Kissing you is worth a little pain."

Lily blushed nearly as red as her hair. "Sev…"

"It's true." He smiled, enjoying her discomfort. Making Lily blush was his favourite pastime, if he was honest.

"Still…please let me look after those bruises?" She stroked her hand down his chest, fingertips playing with the fine scattering of black hair he was starting to get on his chest.

"Ok," he relented, and let her lead him over to her bed. He sat down on the edge, while she opened her trunk and dug through for a little potions case. It was an uncomfortable thing to know that his best friend stockpiled healing potions in case he got hurt during the summer, but his father always locked his stuff away as soon as he got him from school. While he could usually manage to pick the lock and sneak his books out, going in there to grab potions and stuff was difficult. Particularly when his old man was parked in the living room drinking most days. Useless bloody wanker.

Lily came over with the jar of bruise paste and sat beside him. She dipped her fingers into the little jar and spread the blue paste over the ugly bruising on his ribs, and the darker marks across his back. The heat in the room had made the paste somewhat runnier than it usually was, but it actually made it easier on his bruises. "It doesn't make you weak to accept help, that's what friends are for Severus." She said quietly when she was finished.

"I wish it was that simple, Lils." He sighed and reached for his shirt where it lay crumpled on the floor. "Every time they see me taking your help, it just makes me more of a target and eventually they're going to start going after you too. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone hurting you, Lily." He reached over and touched her face. "I can take it, but you shouldn't have to."

"Neither should you." Lily's jaw set stubbornly. "It's not fair, Sev. I hate the way everyone treats you." A few tears shone in her brilliant green eyes.

Severus gently wiped an escaping tear away. His beautiful, idealistic friend…Merlin, he loved her. "Life isn't fair, Lils. Not for people like me." He'd learned that a long time ago, even before he'd met her. Knowing Lily was something too wonderful for someone like him, and he'd just hold on for as long as he could until fate snatched her away. These few perfect moments were more than he deserved, and he'd treasure them forever, even long after she was gone.

~Fin


	97. For His Family

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Y3, representing Slytherin House. Category: Short / Prompt: [Setting] Park / Word Count: 1543**

 **AU – Set shortly after the end of the Triwizard Tournament. This presupposes that Lucius Malfoy would have used some of his Slytherin sense of self-preservation to hedge his bets, so to speak.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

 **Never was anything great achieved without danger. – Machiavelli**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

A sharp flick of his wand transfigured Lucius' robes into an expensive looking muggle business suit. He was loathe to do it, but for the moment the subterfuge was necessary. The muggle park had been an obvious choice for this meeting, well removed from the comfort zone of all those involved. He was no fool, for all the championing of muggle rights that Albus Dumbledore did, he was no more at ease outside of the magical world than Lucius was. There were skeletons in Dumbledore's closet, ones that were best left buried in the darkness and dust. A clever man always knew where his enemy's weakness were, even if he chose not to expose them to others. They were all so much more than they appeared, and it was those deeper layers that had brought him here today.

His pale grey eyes gazed out over the grassy area where people were enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Children ran and played, carefree and completely unaware of the storm brewing in an invisible world far removed from their lives. Such innocence. How long had it been since Lucius had been that unencumbered by the harsh realities of the world? He couldn't remember a time where he'd just been that singularly focused on the pursuit of childish glee. That revelation was rather sad.

"A beautiful sound, isn't it? The laughter of children." Albus Dumbledore came to join him, his blue eyes following Lucius' gaze to where the children were playing.

"Indeed," Lucius agreed and straightened, pulling his familiar masks back around himself before turning to look at the Headmaster. "I am surprised you agreed to meet with me, Dumbledore."

"I decided that it was wise to hear what you had to say, though I doubt your motivations," the older wizard said. His suit was not in the modern style, and his outrageous purple socks stood out glaringly.

"In this, my motivations could not be purer," Lucius said and gestured for the older man to walk with him. "Think what you will of me, but never doubt that I love my son. Current events leave me very much in fear for his safety, and his future." The Dark Lord had returned and rather than being cause for celebration, for Lucius at least, it was cause for panic. He had prayed so many nights that the sadistic, megalomaniac was gone forever. Unfortunately, the night in graveyard just weeks ago had seen his darkest fears come to life. Now his home was playing host to the vindictive wraith, something that looked more like an Inferi than a man, and who seemed determined to ruin everything Lucius had worked so hard to build. His father Abraxas had been the true believer, and Lucius was just trying to get out with his skin intact.

"I can understand how that might motivate you to seek…alternatives," the Headmaster observed shrewdly.

Their feet took them down a crushed stone path, ancient oaks creating a living tunnel as their limbs intertwined overhead. It had taken everything in Lucius to send the message to a man he despised, but in the end he could stomach dealing with him, if it offered his family some kind of future. He hated everything that Albus stood for, the great hypocrite, but principals wouldn't keep his son alive.

"The question, Lucius, is what you can offer us in exchange for your son's protection," Albus said.

"Far more than you can imagine," Lucius retorted, an arrogant smirk crossing his lips. "Your spy in the Dark Lord's inner circle is compromised by the sheer fact that our Master knows he plays both sides. That is both the beauty and limitation of Severus' position. Having an unknown in the Inner Circle hands you information that is always kept from Severus, and I assure you much is kept from him. The Dark Lord is nowhere near as foolish as you believe, and he understand better than you know how Lily Potter's death shook my dear friend's faith." Lucius fell silent as a jogger passed them on the path. He used that pause to let the Headmaster absorb what he was telling him. "Severus needs to be more careful than he has been, because the Dark Lord knows that his loyalties waver. Every scrap of information he hands you, could be a nail in his coffin and then what good will he be to you?"

"Severus knows the risks, and willingly accepts them," Albus said simply, dismissing the danger to his spy with a casual wave of his hand.

"And yet, having me feed you information that Severus could not possibly know would take some of the pressure off him, and free him up to regain the trust that he needs to be effective," Lucius said. "That is my offer, information and strategic aide to help destroy the Dark Lord's ranks from the inside. I will be a form of misdirection, to allow Severus time to regain his footing. When the time comes, I will strike a vicious blow that will help cripple the Dark Lord's base of support to clear the way needed for young Mr. Potter to work his usual brilliance. In return, you ensure that my family is protected and when it is all done you reveal what both Severus and I did to ensure your victory." Lucius stopped and turned to face Dumbledore. "That is the deal."

Albus' blue eyes were absent of their grandfatherly twinkle, these eyes were cold and calculating. He searched Lucius' face for a long moment before nodding. "We have an agreement then. Safety for your wife and son, if it is ever needed, in exchanged for your aide."

"You will inform two members of the Order of my involvement, Severus and Minerva. Any communications I have for you will be passed through them, as the situation requires. This is not negotiable." Severus was necessary, and he knew enough about the honourable Head of Gryffindor House to know that she could be trusted to follow through on Albus' promises when all was said and done.

"I hardly see why Professor McGonagall…."

"Because I trust her to keep to our agreement, in the event that you should…forget it," Lucius said firmly, eye glittering dangerously. "We are not friends and have been something very close to enemies at times. I trust your Deputy Headmistress to keep her word and hold her tongue, in the meantime. I respect her a great deal and I know that Severus also holds her in high esteem…his dislike of Gryffindors in general aside." Slytherins were cautious, and hedged their bets. Putting all his eggs in one basket was sacrilegious, and he was going to make sure there were key players in place to handle any possible eventuality. He expected Dumbledore to betray him and Severus in the end, if he felt it was to his benefit.

A hint of anger showed on the Headmaster's face, before it was gone. It happened so quickly that you could almost convince yourself that it had been imagined, almost. "Very well, I will ensure they are informed."

"Good." Lucius smiled. "As a show of good faith, I will inform you that the Dark Lord has begun compiling information about Potter's nearest friends. Where they live, what their strengths and weaknesses are, and how their loss might affect the boy. All discussed in sessions where Severus was not called. You may want to consider protecting that mudblood that he relies on so heavily. The girl is most wretchedly exposed."

"That term is abhorrent, Lucius." Albus reproached him.

"What is abhorrent is what will happen to the young witch and her family, should you not take my warning seriously." He shrugged simply, unmoved by the Headmaster's disapproval. "Now, I do believe we are done here." Lucius turned and headed off down the path, confident that he was in no danger from the older wizard. He might have come looking for protection, but a Malfoy never allowed anyone else to hold the upper hand.

Walking briskly, the blonde wizard's feet took him to the bank of the duck pond. This particular spot was secluded and tucked out of view from the majority of the park. He needed to process everything, and start preparing for exactly what was to come. This war was only beginning, and Lucius would be fighting not only for his life, but for the future of his family. There was nothing he wouldn't do, no oath he wouldn't break, or person he wouldn't betray to protect the people he loved. He'd been humiliated in the graveyard and that was something his pride simply could not bear. He knew with frightening clarity that the humiliations and abuses would continue. Even in victory, the future of his family was bleak. There was a possibility that he would die in this endeavor, but his life was a small price to pay if it bought the safety of his son and future of their family.

Lucius drew in a deep breath and summoned his occlumency shields, before undoing the transfiguration on his robes and disapparating with a subtle crack disturbing the peace of the park. The die had been cast, and his path chosen. All that remained was seeing it through.

~Fin


	98. How it Happened

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. HoH entry. Category: Additional /Prompt: Playing a Game / Word Count: 1116

AU- Canon to the end of DH, disregards Epilogue. Set a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

Yet another boring Ministry function and Draco honestly wanted to scream. Ever since the end of the war, being a Malfoy had consisted of an uncomfortable parade of attempts to regain his family's good name. He snorted a little into his drink, wondering if they'd ever had a 'good' name. All his life, he'd been lectured and instructed on what it meant to be a Malfoy. For centuries they had been the power behind the Minister's office in Britain, while they weren't necessarily responsible for every election, their opinions and ideas had always been given weight. These days, it was hard for him to walk through the Ministry Atrium without someone sneering at him, or hissing something vile under their breath.

Tonight was a fundraiser for a wizarding orphanage, something that had been long overdue. His mother had been the primary benefactor, though no one would ever admit it. It was a bitter pill to swallow that Saint Bloody Potter was getting all the accolades for this, while his family was footing the bill. He had a feeling that tonight would only be tolerable with copious amounts of alcohol.

"When I'm dreading an evening, I try and find ways to enjoy myself anyway." A light, dreamy voice interrupted his self-depreciating thoughts.

Draco turned and looked at the petite blonde, who'd invited herself to sit beside him. He couldn't help the small smile that quirked his lips. Luna Lovegood had always followed her own strange, inscrutable rules. The dreamy Ravenclaw had a unique way to looking at the world, and while people liked to make fun of her for it, Draco had a grudging respect for her perseverance.

"And how do you propose I enjoy myself then?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. If nothing else, she'd help distract him from Potter.

Luna's head fell to the side as she considered. "We could play a little game," she said after a moment.

"A game? What kind of game?" It was ridiculous at face value. Children played games and they had all left childhood far behind them. The war had seen to that, more brutally for some than others. He repressed a shudder, trying not to think about the night his own childhood had been violently stripped from him. There was a conscious effort not to rub his left forearm, where the ghost of the Dark Mark still marked him. He'd never be rid of it.

"It's called 'How it Happened'. We used to play it in Ravenclaw Tower when we were bored. I didn't get asked to play very often, but it was fun to listen. You pick two people at random and then make up a story about how they might have gotten together," Luna explained.

Draco sipped his drink and shrugged. "I suppose I could try…" His grey eyes roved over the room, settling on where Hermione Granger was talking with Charlie Weasley. "Ok, Granger and Charlie Weasley."

"That one's fairly obvious, isn't it? After Ron broke her heart, Hermione threw herself into her job and eventually collaborated with Charlie on improving the welfare standards for dragons at the Hebrides Reserve. After a long period of working together they had a torrid affair." Luna smiled.

Draco couldn't help himself, he was laughing as he tried to imagine Granger having a torrid affair with anything other than a book. "You know, Lovegood, you have a wicked sense of humor."

"Most people don't see it." Luna gave him a slightly mischievous smirk. "Your turn now, what about Ron and Pansy."

"That's just nauseating, but all right." Draco took a moment to consider. "Clearly, it was revenge. Weasel-bee was furious when Granger left him for Krum, and decided to seek revenge on her by shacking up with the one witch she hated more than my aunt Bellatrix. Unfortunately, Pansy ended up pregnant and when his parents found out, they had to get married. Now Pansy nags him within an inch of the grave, and she's on her fourth red-headed brat."

Luna laughed, a bright clear sound that turned heads and made everyone wonder what they were speaking about that could have elicited that response. "You still don't like him much, do you?"

"Malfoys and Weasleys are like oil and water, Lovegood. Always have been, and always will be." He shrugged. "All right, let me pick a harder one for you," he got a really wicked grin. "Harry Potter and Theo Nott." He bounced his eyebrows a little.

Luna blinked at him and looked across the room. "That is challenging." A little frown crossed her lips as she watched Harry for a while and then they darted over to where Theo was talking with another member of the Wizengamot. Then she blinked rapidly. "You can't use real couples for this game, Draco." She looked at him.

Draco nearly spit his drink out. "What?"

"Watch them for a minute, you'll see," Luna said sagely.

"Look, if it's too hard a pairing…you can just say so." Draco frowned and let his eyes travel over to his former rival, trying to see what Luna clearly had. Sure, some of Potter's manoeuverings of late could be called almost Slytherin in their design, but even a Gryffindor had to get lucky sometime right?

"Just look," Luna insisted.

Draco sighed and attempted to get over his instinctive dismissal of everything Potter, and just observe him. Harry was on the opposite side of the room from Theo, both engaged in conversations with small groups of people. Neither one had appeared with a date, but their eyes kept drifting across the room. Then he saw a small smile shared between them, and Luna could have knocked him over with a feather. She was right. Potter and Nott clearly were having a 'thing', obviously they were being very discreet, but sweet mother of Merlin, there was something there.

"Told you." Luna smiled. "Pick another couple." She grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server.

Draco took a moment and looked at her. "You and me."

Luna blinked at him, and then the faintest blush crossed her cheeks. "Clearly, you ask me to join you for a moonlight walk, after I spend an evening rescuing from a boring Ministry ball."

"Would you like to slip out now?" Draco asked, unsure where that had come from, but he really wanted her to say yes.

Luna nodded. "We won't be missed anyway."

Draco set his drink down and stood, offering him his arm. "Then let's make our escape, my lady." He gave her his most charming smile. For the first time since the end of the war, things were looking up and he had no intention of looking back.

~Fin


	99. Against All Odds

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. HoH entry. Category: Short / Prompt: The Shrieking Shack / Additional Requirement: Overcoming the Odds / Word Count: 1560

AU - Snape survives his attack in the Shrieking Shack.

o.o.O.o.o

"You have your mother's eyes," I gasped out as darkness began to swallow my vision. Potter's features melted away to just those two vibrant emerald eyes, until they too were lost to the blackness. The promise of oblivion was so close now, hanging just beyond the grasp of my stained fingertips. It would have been so easy to give up, to just let myself surrender to death, but I was a survivor and it just wasn't in me to let the Dark Lord win.

My death was something that had occupied my mind as far back as I could remember. In my younger years, I'd imagine my father finally losing control and beating me to death, or falling prey to the roving gangs of bullies that populated Spinner's End. Later there had been the fear of the Marauder's taking things too far, or my Housemates finally succeeding in ridding themselves of me. Bleeding to death on the disgusting, filthy, floor of the Shrieking Shack had not been my favourite amongst the plethora of possibilities…at least not since that night when Black had nearly succeeded in murdering me by feeding me to a transformed Remus Lupin. There was some horrible irony in the place the Dark Lord had chosen to end my life, if you could manage to have a sense of humor about something like this. Not an attribute many would associate with me, but if I could manage it, I would have been tempted to indulge in a little hysterical laughter.

My life was not such an important thing to me that I feared death in and of itself, but dying in such a useless and pointless way chaffed horribly against the tattered remnants of my pride. Distantly, I could hear Potter's feet scrambling away, going to view the memories I'd bestowed upon him. He was leaving me to die alone in this cold forgotten place. It was a startling realization that I didn't want to die, not like this. Then, a voice whispered through the haze that was settling over my senses. The words were muted, as if I was trying to hear them underwater, but the tone was perfectly clear. Granger, it had to be her. I could feel her rifling through my robes, guessing quite correctly that I would have an emergency potions kit hidden somewhere. I summoned as much of my remaining strength as I could and reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling it to the hidden pocket where my salvation could be found.

Being a double agent always carried the risk of finding myself with no friends and nowhere to hide if things went bad, so preparation became the key to survival. The Dark Lord had been relying increasingly on Nagini over the last months as a means of execution, something in his vile and twisted mind enjoying using the creature as a weapon. Because of Arthur Weasley's encounter with the creature in the Department of Mysteries, I'd had access to samples of the venom for years and had created not quite an antidote, but a potion that had granted me a certain level of immunity to her bite. That potion was the only reason I was still clinging to life.

The rounded edge of a potion vial brushed my lips and I used my concentration to swallow the substance, recognizing it as my enhanced form of blood replenishing potion. Another quickly followed, but this had nearly no taste, just a slight tinge of salt. She had found my most potent safeguard, a vial of Phoenix tears. The night Albus had told me about the necessity of Potter's death, the beautiful creature had found me on the shores of the Black Lake and had wept for the pain in my heart. I'd gathered the tears, never knowing when they might be needed. I'd always meant to use them to try and save Potter.

The tears coursed through my veins, setting them on fire as they burned the poison from my system. I could feel the wounds at my throat closing, the gaping holes in my flesh filling in and becoming smooth again. Why Granger was wasting her time on me in the middle of the battle, I didn't know. As far as she or anyone else knew, I was nothing but a murderer and a traitor. Potter would have told everyone about how I had struck Dumbledore down while he was unarmed and helpless, a greater act of cowardice no one would be able to fathom. None of them knew the truth, and that alone was enough to damn me in their eyes forever.

"Sir…can you hear me? Professor Snape?"

Her voice was clearer now, the rush of blood through my veins no longer drowned out her words. I forced my eyes open and looked at her, struck by the change in her from a mere year ago. I'd only gotten the smallest glimpse of her in the Forest of Dean, when I'd lingered to ensure that Potter had survived his retrieval of the Sword of Gryffindor, nowhere near enough to see all the changes. Her features were sharper now, her eyes carrying a hardness that I recognized only too well. War had transformed her, in ways that were not so easy to categorize. Wounds could heal, the dead could be mourned, but once you darkened your soul for the benefit of others…there was no going back.

"Miss Granger," I managed to answer her, wincing at the hoarse almost gravelly tone of my voice. Clearly, my vocal cords were still healing. "Why?" I needed to know.

"Because every time we think we've figured out who you are, we've been wrong," she said softly. "And because Phineas asked me to save you, if I could. He told me things were not as they appeared, and to use my reputedly overpowered brain to look beyond the obvious explanation of facts."

The smallest smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, grateful for at least that small kindness. "And what conclusion did you reach?" Somehow, against all odds…this school girl had puzzled out the truth.

"That Dumbledore's death was just part of the plan, he asked you to kill him," Granger replied softly. "You've been on our side all along, haven't you?"

I nodded and let my eyes fall closed. "Always, Miss Granger."

"Just rest a moment."

There was the sound of things being moved, the dull scrape of furniture across the floor of the shack. I repressed a shudder at the thought of remaining here, but there were few other choices. I was still too weak to apparate away, and it would be suicide to try returning on foot in my current condition. Phoenix tears could save someone from the brink of death, but even they could not return me instantly to fighting condition. I opened my eyes as she returned, and helped as much as I could to get up and walk to a nearby room. It was probably a good thing that I was a good two stones lighter than I should be, or else she'd never have been able to support me. I all but collapsed onto the transfigured bed and let her prop me up on the pillows.

"I'll lay wards to keep anyone from noticing this room, and then I need to get back to the battle," she said.

"Potter needs you more than I do." I tried to give her some escape from the guilt I could see building in her eyes. She clearly didn't want to abandon me, some misguided Gryffindor sense of honour I suppose, but this was war and there was no time for her sentimentality. "Watch your back, and don't hesitate to kill if you must. You know what will happen if you are captured here."

"I do." A grim expression crossed her face and I watched as she gripped her wand so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her wand work was elegant as she wove a series of different wards at the doorway, and I could literally feel the layers of protection wrapping around me. It was far more than I deserved. "I'll be back when I can," she said as she finished.

"Good luck," I said, watching her turn and hurry away. Once I was certain she was gone, I whispered to the empty room. "You'll need it."

By some strange twist of fate, I was alive. I'd known for the past year and a half that Albus had never intended for me to survive this war, just one more justifiable sacrifice on his altar to the 'Greater Good'. He'd nearly gotten his wish too, the news that everything I'd ever done had been for nothing had been a nearly fatal blow. The truth about the necessity of Potter's death had hit me hard, knowing that my promise to Lily could not be kept. Only the quick thinking and determination of a young Gryffindor witch had managed to snatch me from the jaws of Death and haul me back into the land of the living. Strangely, this life debt didn't stir the same rage and resentment that my debt to James Potter had. With Granger's help, I had beaten the odds and escaped death inside the Shrieking Shack for the second time in my life. It seemed surreal, and yet…apparently it was true.


	100. A Silver Hart

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. HoH Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Silver / Additional rec: Love Conquers All / Word Count: 798

Original Character – Set in 1984. Fits with facts in Canon, but is part of the 'What Worth A Life?' AU-Universe.

o.o.O.o.o

Emerald green and silver, the traditional colours of Slytherin House. Everyone rightly associated the green with the colour of a serpent's scales, but silver was always overlooked. Silver was most closely associated with the moon, and tied to the power of feminine energy. Silver was tied to the ebb and flow of the tides, connecting deeply to their watery elemental nature. Those strange, philosophical thoughts swirled around Clara's mind as she got ready for her graduation ceremony.

Today was the last day Clara would wear her Slytherin legacy necklace, a silver serpent that had guarded her throughout the last seven years of her education. On the night of their sorting, every single new Slytherin was gifted with a piece of jewelry that had been passed down from student to student since the earliest days of Hogwarts. Boys were given a signet ring, and girls received a necklace. On their final night in the castle, the seventh year Slytherin would write a short note for the child who would one day wear their legacy around their neck. The silver legacies were woven with strong protective charms, and linked to a ring worn by their Head of House. If they were ever in true danger, their Head of House could find them.

Clara had once seen this working, first hand. She'd been in her second year when a couple of older Gryffindor girls had shoved her into the Black Lake, not realizing that she couldn't swim. Horace Slughorn was not a man prone to going out of his way for people outside his little club, but he had arrived in the nick of time to levitate her out of the water, and save her life. Her fingertips traced the glittering silver coils of the serpent, and hoped that whoever wore this necklace after her, never had need of such a rescue.

Being muggleborn had made for a very lonely existence, at least for the first five years of her Hogwarts career. Those first years had been incredibly hard, and only her love for magic had kept her moving forward. Her blood status made her a pariah inside the confines of Slytherin, and outside her status as a Slytherin kept the other houses from consorting with her. There had been times when she'd imagined herself carved from silver, cool and untouchable in the face of the prejudice and tribulations she'd endured. Love of magic had helped her survive, and when the time had been just right it had allowed her to surge forward and claim all that she wanted, like a wave pulled inexorably forward by the moon.

Today she would leave Hogwarts behind, but Slytherin would always be a part of her. The House that hadn't wanted any part of her, had become so dear to her heart that no matter what the future held, it would always have a place there. Tomorrow she was due to begin her apprenticeship under Abraxas Malfoy, in pursuit of her Mastery in Ancient Runes. Her passion for the obscure field had won her the position, under a man who despised the muggle taint in her blood. She knew he would be a cruel and harsh task master, but even he would not be able to kill her love for the world she'd chosen as her own.

Her new master had sent a small gift for her to open today, a traditional offering to celebrate her coming into true adulthood in the wizarding world. She opened the little wrapped parcel, fingers plucking at the silver ribbon. Inside, nestled against black velvet, was a silver locket. Etched on the front was an elegant stag, a nod to her surname: Hart. There was an inscription inside.

' _Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them'_

There was a small note tucked into the bottom of the box and she unfolded it.

 _So many enter our world willfully ignorant of the wondrous culture around them. Your love of magic and our world is something I have rarely seen in my many years. Watching you explore and delve deep into the mysteries of the old ways has renewed my own passion for them. That love and devotion to the purity of magic is what convinced me to disregard your parentage. Never lose that passion, for the world will be much colder for its absence. – A.M._

Clara carefully put the new locket on, her fingers tracing over the two silver chains that now adorned her throat. Magic was the only love she needed, and it would help her achieve great things that others could not even begin to imagine. That love had helped her conquer the immense odds stacked against her, and she would be forever grateful for it.

~Fin


	101. Nothing But Trouble

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH entry. Prompt 1:[Trope] Bad guy turning good/ Prompt 2:[Character] Bill Weasley /Prompt 3: [Speech] "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" / Word Count: 1119 (Not including Author's Note)

 **AU – Barty Crouch Jr. escapes at the end of Goblet of Fire and is not given to the Dementors, and Dobby doesn't get sent to Malfoy Manor by Aberforth.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

William Wealsey, Bill to his friends and family, had made a career out of looking for trouble. A wizard didn't go hunting through cursed ruins because they like playing things safe, or at least Bill didn't. As Head Boy and holder of an impressive number of O's on his NEWTs, he'd had his choice of jobs in a wide variety of fields and soundly rejected them all. His mother had made her opinions known, but over time she'd accepted that he had to follow his own path. Working for the goblins had not been easy, and in the beginning the pay had been atrocious, but getting to play with dangerous ancient curses…that was priceless to him. It made his pulse race, and his blood sing.

However, the wizard currently trussed to a kitchen chair in one of the Order safe houses, was a whole different kind of trouble. Barty Crouch Jr. had been in the wind since the Triwizard Tournament and was responsible for a number of Order deaths over the past few years. Every instinct inside Bill was screaming at him to just kill the Death Eater and dispose of the body. His head, however, was whispering that just maybe this was the edge they needed; that a set of eyes and ears close to the Dark Lord was valuable enough to look past the man's sordid history. With the betrayal of Snape last June, they had been flying blind and the losses were getting harder and harder to accept.

"You're going to be trouble, aren't you?" It came out as more of a statement than a question, and the Death Eater's instant laughter made him very uncomfortable.

"Something tells me you like trouble, Weasley," Barty said, shifting against the ropes that lashed him to the hard-backed wooden chair. Even tied up, he looked supremely confident, as if he were in full control of the situation.

A muscle worked in Bill's jaw as he considered his next move. "Why are you doing this? You're the reason he was resurrected at all."

"That _**thing**_ we brought back is not my master. It's some poor shadow of what he was and it doesn't deserve my loyalty," Barty snarled back, looking positively murderous. "If I have to work with you to get rid of it, so be it. Even I'm not crazy enough to stand by and let him destroy everything, just to be king of the ashes."

Bill gave a considering nod. "We'll consider your offer."

"Don't consider too long. I might be trouble, but I am nothing compared to what's coming your way if you don't take my help." He grinned darkly.

Bill reached out and wrapped a hand around the other man's throat, resisting the urge to squeeze. "What do you mean?"

"Tsk tsk…no need to get handsy," Barty teased. "I just meant if you take too long working out whether you can trust me, the Dark Lord will have Harry Potter and his precious pets in his gasp. Already they're on their way to him, not that Bellatrix knows what she has yet. She always could miss things staring her right in the face." He choked as Bill tightened his grip and then released it suddenly.

Bill moved back and drove his fist into the wall, needing to release some of the caged violence before he did something he couldn't take back. "You swear, on your magic, that you're telling me the truth." He looked over his shoulder at Barty.

"I swear on the blood of the true Dark Lord, that I speak the truth," he replied, holding Bill's gaze unblinkingly.

Bill swallowed, wishing that the others had arrived to help him make this decision, but he was alone. If Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, he couldn't wait a minute longer. "If you try anything I don't like, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Barty said and when the ropes were vanished, he stood and rolled his shoulders. "Shall we get going? If we dally too long, I doubt there'll be much left of the mudblood. Pity, she really was one of my favourite students." He grinned and straightened his robes.

"Where are they?" Bill asked, grabbing a blade and slipping it into his boot. Charlie had sent it to him last year, reminding him that sometimes you could find yourself without a wand, and that a blade was a decent backup.

"Malfoy Manor. I'm keyed to the wards, so as long as I'm touching you, we can get you inside," Barty said, the humor sliding off his face as he prepared to do battle. "Greyback's there, he'll smell you as soon as we're on the property, so be ready."

Bill's eyes narrowed. "I'll be ready for him. Let's go."

Barty nodded and moved closer, gripping Bill securely and together they apparated directly into Malfoy Manor. Barty nodded to a shadowed stair case, a woman's screams filled the air. "Potter and his friend are down there, Bellatrix has the girl in the drawing room, so I'll get her. You get them out and I'll meet you back at the safe house," he spoke softly, eyes nervously searching the darkened hall. "The Lovegood girl, Ollivander, and a goblin are down there with them."

Bill reached out and grabbed his arm before he could walk off. "If you don't follow with her, I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth. Trust me on that."

"Wouldn't expect anything less." Barty winked at him and headed off down the hallway.

Bill turned his attention to his portion of the mission, getting Harry out. After dealing with Pettigrew, he called for Dobby and got them all out of there, disappearing just as Greyback ran through the door bellowing after them. They'd settle the matter between them another night.

Barty appeared about twenty minutes later, with an unconscious Hermione in his arms. He was limping, and holding himself tightly, but he didn't say anything as he carried the girl over to a moth-eaten couch and laid her down with surprising gentleness.

"She's just passed out from the pain, she'll be alright," he said and collapsed down to his knees, holding his side.

Bill swore and rushed over, tearing open his robes and seeing the handle of a dagger protruding from his side. "I knew you were going to be trouble," Bill muttered and pulled his wand out to start some healing spells.

"You know you like trouble, Weasley. Don't whine like a Hufflepuff," Barty teased through his grimaces. They'd rescued the teens, and everyone was still alive. All in all, it wasn't a bad day's work. Merlin knew what they'd accomplish tomorrow.

~Fin


	102. Minding Your P's & Q's

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Prompts:[Crossover with:] Star Trek [Character] Minerva McGonagall [Song] 'Magic Dance' by David Bowie/ Word Count: 1079 (not including a/n)

 ****Crossover with Star Trek****

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Being a Q was both an immense responsibility and at the same time a lot of fun. At least, it was for this Q. Over the years of his association with the crew of the human Federation Starship Enterprise, he had grown to have a true appreciation for humans. They were a fascinating species, nowhere near as simplistic or frail as they appeared at first blush. During his initial encounter with them on the way to their first mission at Far Point Station, he had put them on trial for the crimes of humanity and despite his surety that they'd fail, they had risen to the occasion and garnered the interest of the Continuum.

The biggest failing he could see about them as a species, was a decided propensity towards being too serious and thinking in a restrictive linear fashion. Picard certainly fell prey to those faults with stunning regularity and seemed most resistant to any attempts to broaden his mind. Really, at times Q wondered if the man understood just how much time and effort he went to on their behalf. Silly mortals. It had been some time since he'd last visited them, having needed a little distance after the humiliation of his stint as a human, but perhaps it was time to return and remind them all how much they'd missed him. Yes, that was exactly what he'd do. A little music, a little fun, and see if he could get a rise out of his favourite Star Fleet Captain.

While he admitted a certain weakness to Shakespeare, Q had started slipping back into Earth's history and experiencing the incredible range of their pop culture and hidden societies. True magic and power was so rare in the Universe and he had been surprised to discover, on one of his many adventures back, that a shadow world had existed beside regular humans for millennia. A tiny sliver of the human population had actual magic. Nothing to the power of a Q, but magic nonetheless. It was fascinating. Perhaps it was finally time to drag that hidden culture out into the light, and see what Picard would make of it. He'd probably think it just another one of his 'games', but sometimes it was better to let Picard dismiss the truly hard lessons as just that.

A flash of light heralded his arrival and he smiled brightly at Jean-Luc. "Mon Capitaine!" He affected a French accent and mentally clapped his hands together like a giddy school boy at the instant glower that descended over the man's features. It was really too easy sometimes.

"What do you want, Q?" Jean-Luc Picard asked, his tone stern as if addressing a misbehaving child.

"Can't I just stop in and see my favourite humans? Must you always be so suspicious?" Q pressed a hand to his chest dramatically.

"History has taught us to be cautious of your motivations, Q. Now what are you doing here?" The Captain fixed him with a hard look.

"I just wanted to stop by and tell you that you remind me of the babe." He couldn't help with wide grin that crossed his features as Commander Data replied.

"What 'babe'?" The Android looked extremely confused, head tilting to the side.

"The babe with the Power." Q responded and snapped his fingers, and a woman appeared in the middle of the bridge. She was tall, dressed in emerald green robes, and wore a magnificent witch's hat, complete with a plum of turkey feathers tucked into the brim.

"What…what is the meaning of this? Explain yourself immediately!" she sputtered, a Scottish brogue colouring her tone as she whirled around taking in the foreign sights and sounds of the Starship bridge.

"Q! What have you done to this poor woman?" Riker moved forward only to have the older woman pull a stick out of her sleeve and thrust it at his nose.

"Not a step closer, young man!" Minerva said, putting every ounce of command into her voice.

"Mmmm, what kind of magic spell to use…" Q teased, finding the whole situation quite amusing. Maybe she'd transform the Commander into something interesting, like a tortoise or a tea cozy.

"And that is quite enough out of you." She fixed him with a hard look. "Now, someone explain exactly what is going on here. What manner of spell did you use to bring me here?"

"Something akin to your apparition, though with a temporal element added to it," Q supplied, not pushing the witch too far. While not omnipotent, a sufficiently aggravated witch could cause some mild inconveniences, even for a Q.

"Q, what the hell is going on?!" Picard finally interjected, his patience at an end.

"This lovely woman is from Earth, but from the date 1993. She is a Professor, hence her easy handling of you…Riker." Q winked at the brash executive officer. "And she is a witch."

"There's no such thing as magic Q, and I'll thank you to stop playing these ridiculous games." Picard fixed him with a look.

Minerva pressed her lips into a disapproving frown, and tapped her wand on the closest chair, turning it smoothly into a golden retriever, and then back into a chair. "No such thing as magic?" She lifted her eyebrow, certain this had to be a rather wild dream. "As enjoyable as this is, if you'd be so kind as to return me to Hogwarts, Mr….?" She looked to the dark haired man who seemed to think this whole thing most amusing.

"Q, just Q, Madam." He gave a courtly bow. "Forgive my associate's most atrocious manners, I fear that while the future holds great technological wonders, good manners have fallen most by the wayside. It would be my pleasure to see you safely back to your demesne, my Lady."

Minerva gave him a look that said she was most certainly not impressed his the rampant flattery. "Very well then, let's get on with it, Mr. Q. I have a bunch of transfigurations papers to mark, and a bottle of Ogden's Old waiting for me."

Q snapped his fingers and the strange woman was gone. He turned and looked at the mystified crew. "The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper."

"William Butler Yeats," Data said, placing the quote easily.

"Such a pity your minds are still such dreadfully blunt objects," Q lamented and then he was gone in another flash of light.

~Fin


	103. 60 Minutes of Freedom

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Jogging / Word Count: 770

Set during Half-Blood Prince, sometime during the fall.

o.o.O.o.o

The air was biting this morning, as he set out in the bleak hours before dawn. For a brief stolen hour every morning, Severus was beholden to no one. In the time between night and day, he carved out a tiny piece of freedom for himself. In this hour, he was immune to the demands of Dark Lords, doddering Headmasters, and dunderheaded students. When he'd been a young man, he'd taken up jogging as an act of self-preservation. Fending off attacks from the Marauders on a daily basis had required him to be at the top his game, both mentally and physically. That fitness was the only reason he'd usually come out of those encounters relatively unscathed. In the first few years after Lily's death, his morning run had been a way to quiet the guilt and self-loathing that had threatened to swallow him whole. Those first years teaching at Hogwarts, Severus had been more a ghost than a man. He'd taught, eaten the barest minimum of food, and slept a scant handful of hours at night. His early morning runs had been his only lifeline to sanity, and slowly he'd climbed his way up out of the pit of despair he'd existed in.

For a few blissful years, his morning jog had been just a perfunctory ritual, but that had ended when the Dark Mark had begun to darken the year of the Tournament. If the Dark Lord was returning, Severus needed to be in the very best condition possible. His survival could well depend on his fitness and stamina. Now, two years on, his body was a fine tuned machine again, composed of lean muscle and sharp edges. Hell was on the doorstep, and no one else seemed to see what was rolling in on the edge of the coming storm. The oldest students seemed to feel the tension amongst the staff, and likely understood more of what they read in the Prophet, but they still weren't suitably ready. How could they be?

Severus paused as he reached his half-way point, lifting the battered white sports bottle to his lips and drinking down the electrolyte rich beverage he favoured on these runs. He was grateful that Albus had finally allowed him to take the Dark Arts position. At least he could give them one year of real preparation before everything fell apart, but it wouldn't be nearly enough. Like trying to use a band-aide to close an arterial laceration. He closed his eyes and tried to stave off the instant headache that those thoughts always brought with them. There was just so much more they could be doing to make them ready, especially the ones that would be on the front lines of this conflict. Of course, Albus didn't want Potter to survive, so why waste the resources? A harsh bark of laughter sounded from his lips.

Everything that Severus had sacrificed and bled for was a lie. No matter what he did, there was no way to save Lily's son. He'd failed in his quest before it had even begun, and the old man had known it. Bitter tears stung at his eyes, a pathetic show of emotion that he would only ever indulge in these precious moments of silence and solitude. Fate was a cruel bitch, and the irony of his entire existence was finally clear to him. Of course, the Headmaster had withheld the truth until they were long past the point of no return. If he had known about this end years ago, there were other courses he could have plotted. In his heart, he knew exactly what he would have done.

Lily would have turned over in her grave, but perhaps she would have understood. As Harry Potter, the boy would always have been a target. The easiest way to protect him, would have been to make 'Harry Potter' disappear. It would have meant the Dark Lord's ultimate victory, but at least his friend's son would have a chance at some kind of life. The time for such a move was long past, the conflict too deeply entrenched on both sides. Potter hated the Dark Lord, almost as much as the Dark Lord hated him. He certainly didn't need to be a seer to envision how this was going to end: badly.

With a sigh, Severus slipped the bottle back into the holder on his waist and took off along the path. The steady cadence of his feet driving those dangerous thoughts away. He needed to stay the course, and face the coming conflict head on. He didn't have any other choice.

~Fin


	104. Just a Man

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt: [First line] Once upon a time, / Word Count: 345

Post Battle of Hogwarts, very slight AU

o.o.O.o.o

Once upon a time, I believed that good would always triumph over evil. I believed that the monsters only lived under my bed, and that somewhere there was a happily ever after waiting for me. It's been a very long time since I believed in fairy tales, my sense of wonder and innocence ripped away by the brutal realities of war and the hard lessons of loss. Now, I know that there is no good and evil, only various shades of grey and interpretations of right and wrong. I've seen too much to believe in absolutes anymore.

It was simpler when I was boy, and I could believe absolutely that what I was doing was right. The bad guys always wore black robes, and Albus Dumbledore was the bastion of light and goodness. Back then, I never stopped to question those commonly accepted truths and I wish now that I had. With the war a fading memory for some, I knew now that the bravest man I've ever known always wore black and Albus Dumbledore was not nearly as untarnished as he pretended to be. People call me a Hero, the Chosen One, or the Boy-Who-Lived, but the sad reality is that none of them know the first thing about me.

They don't know about the years I spent locked in a boot cupboard, or the dreams I still have about making my Aunt and Uncle pay for all the things they did to me. No one knows that I still hear whispers of Voldemort's voice in my head, during the darkest hours of the night. They certainly don't know that sometimes I listen to him. Only some of my friends understand that the war changed me, and sometimes I think only Hermione sees the full extent of the damage. She sees it because she carries her own darkness now, left there to fester by Bellatrix and Dolohov. Like always recognizes like.

Once upon a time, I believed I was a hero. Now I know that I'm just a man with flaws, weaknesses, and secrets.

~Fin


	105. More than I Deserve

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Additional / Prompt: Angst / Word Count: 1421

Set On September 1st, 1982.

o.o.O.o.o

" _Severus Tobias Snape, you are hereby cleared of all charges and free to go."_

Even now, several months after his complete mockery of a trial, those words haunted Severus. Of all the things he was now, free wasn't one of them. Nothing could free him of the guilt, or the nightmares, or chains of obligation that Dumbledore had wrapped around him. No, by speaking in his defence, the Headmaster had bound him just as surely as the Dark Lord had when he'd burned the dark mark into his skin. Today, he was starting his first day as the Hogwarts Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. Old Slughorn had finally retired and while Severus was ridiculously over qualified for the position, Albus had _**convinced**_ him that he should accept.

He stood in front of the mirror, slowly buttoning up his vest, focusing on the repetitive task to try and hold himself together. There were so many ghosts in this castle, not just the ones everyone else could see. Some of the most horrible memories of his life had taken place here, and he'd have to face them every single day. His hands faltered, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. He fastened his cufflinks, and then pulled on his billowing black robes. He was the youngest teacher on staff, so looking severe was the only way he was going to be able to command any respect in the classroom. Merlin, he'd been in school with some of the older students.

The reflection staring back at him looked haunted. There were dark circles under his eyes, a testament to nights spent fighting off the memories that plagued him, and he was far too thin, unable to stomach eating more than the bare minimum required. If not for Lucius, he was certain he'd have turned his wand on himself at some point this summer. He couldn't walk down the street without someone cursing at him, looking down on him. All his life, all he'd ever wanted was to be someone, and now he wished desperately that he was once again an obscure nobody.

He tucked his wand away into his robes and left his chambers. The students would be arriving this evening and it was likely the last morning of peace and quiet that he would have. He stopped by his personal laboratory and picked up a crate of pepper-up potion he'd brewed for the Infirmary. It was September, and he was certain that a whole herd of the children would come down with some illness or another and Poppy would be desperate for the extra supply. Slughorn had never wasted his time brewing for the Infirmary, seeing it as beneath him. Severus had been told that it was now his job, and it was impossible to not resent that Dumbledore was treating him as some kind of indentured servant rather than a Professor. It was also very obvious that he was being paid remarkably less than his predecessor.

He swept through the empty halls, walking swiftly as he focused on the task at hand. In the end, it didn't matter. Who else would hire him at all? He should be grateful for the employment at all, he supposed, but the bitterness had already crept into his heart and would continue to fester. He entered the Infirmary and deposited the crate on the back counter, just outside the supply room.

"Ah Severus, I wasn't expecting you." The Hogwarts matron came out of her office, a pleasant smile on her face. "More pepper-up, excellent. You're a dear to bring it up yourself," she said and levitated the crate into the supply room. "I can't tell you how nice it is to have someone willing to brew for me, the apothecary in Hogsmeade is efficient enough, but goodness they are a hassle to deal with most days. I never understood why Horace was also so dead set against it."

"I imagine the demands on his time were…a factor," Severus said quietly.

She snorted. "You mean it would have cut into his vacation time. The man never paid a whit of attention to his students unless they were in his little club." She paused and looked at him. "Why don't you join me for a spot of breakfast? You look like you could use something more substantial than coffee."

"I should…"

"Nonsense, come and sit yourself down. We can discuss how you'd like to go about managing the Infirmary supply and you can put my mind to ease about your eating habits. While you're here, your health is my concern after all." She bustled him through to the office and summoned some breakfast for them. Rather than the sometimes overly rich Hogwarts fare, a plate with some poached eggs on toast, and a bowl of oatmeal arrived with some tea.

"I'm perfectly fine, I've just had much on my mind." Severus had never had anyone care much about him, in any capacity. It was uncomfortable to be the center of the Hogwarts matron's attention, even in such a simple manner.

"I can imagine you have," she said softly. "Each Head of House has their own protocols when it comes to their students. If I have concerns, would you prefer I speak to you or the Headmaster?"

"I would prefer you come to me with anything concerning my snakes, even the most minor of incidents," Severus said, looking down into his tea cup. Slughorn had never cared about what the Marauders had done to him, not even once had he visited when their 'pranks' had landed him here in the hospital wing. He would never fail any of his students like that. "If I don't know what's going on, I can't help them."

"I'll make sure that I let you know about anything that happens," she promised, a glimmer of approval in her warm brown eyes.

"Thank you." Severus tried a little bit of the eggs, and found that the rather bland breakfast sat much better in his stomach than the greasy food that was often served in the Great Hall. He cautiously lifted his eyes, trying to let her know without words that he wasn't just thanking her for offering to keep him informed.

"While I'm perfectly aware that you are capable of brewing just about anything you need for yourself, I would ask that you come to me if you need anything beyond simple potions. You can count on my discretion, Severus," she reassured him.

He tried not to look uncomfortable about the request. "I will keep that in mind. How often do you wish to have the infirmary cabinets restocked?" He redirected the conversation to safer ground.

Poppy allowed him to change the topic, and by the end of breakfast they had come to an agreement over the potions she'd need, so that last minute requests would not interfere with his duties as a Professor or Head of House. Severus took his leave quickly, feeling rather vulnerable and exposed under the healer's eyes.

He walked a short distance away and leaned against the wall, trying to reinforce his Occlumency shields. It shouldn't hurt this much to know that the first person in his entire life to give a shit about him, was a relative stranger. Clearly, she'd noticed over the last few weeks that his eating habits were atrocious, and had gone to the trouble of trying to discover why. She spoke to him like a human being, and not something dangerous to be kept at arm's length. He didn't deserve her kindness, not after all the things he'd done and the lives he'd helped destroy.

Severus pushed away from the wall and raked a hand through his stringy hair, trying to push away the rising panic he could feel. No one did anything without some kind of ulterior motive, he knew that. Clearly, she just wanted to ensure that he didn't poison the little dunderheads out of spite. Yes, that had to be the root of her concern for him. He'd learned early on in life that his worth depended solely on what he could do for others, once he'd served his purpose, they always cast him aside. This was no different. His only concern now was his students. They needed his protection, and his support in a world that would always distrust them. His wants and needs were unimportant, there was no point in ever allowing himself to believe he deserved more. Expectation always led to disappointment and betrayal. Always.


	106. Secret Rendezvous

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Sneaking out of the House /Word Count: 1103**

 **AU set not quite a year after the Battle of Hogwarts.**

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione was sprawled across her bed in Grimmauld Place, staring up at the canopy. She was fully dressed and alert, despite the desperately late hour. A very faint, non-verbal lumos illuminated the watch on her wrist and she swallowed nervously, it was two in the morning and with luck everyone else was sound asleep in their beds. The Weasleys were living here while the Burrow was being rebuilt, and Harry had also extended an offer to her to remain while she decided what she was going to do now. After a year on the run with just Harry and Ron for company, living with so many people again was difficult. Some days it took everything she had to keep from just screaming.

Moving very slowly, she sat up on the bed and watched the other occupant of the room. Ginny was snoring lightly, turned on her side away from Hermione. Hermione cast a quick muffling charm on her runners, and grabbed her beaded bag off the desk as she moved through the darkened room. She knew the layout of the house intimately by now and only needed the barest bit of light to get around without bumping into anything. The door opened with a slight creak, but a quick check over her shoulder showed that Ginny was still sleeping peacefully.

The hallway was a trickier place to navigate, certain floorboards groaned loudly if you stepped on them, and it took several long minutes to get to the top of the stairs. It was silly that she had to sneak out, but ever since the end of the war, Harry and Ron had become irrationally protective of her and even a year later, it was nearly impossible to get five minutes alone. She understood their reasons, but it didn't change the fact that sometimes she just needed space to breathe. She crept down the steps, holding her breath as she passed the covered portrait guarding the landing and quickly made it to the front hall. She leaned against the wall there and let out a shaky breath, glad that she'd gotten this far unseen.

No light flickered under the door that led into the kitchen, so she was fairly confident that everyone was tucked safely into bed. She walked the short distance to the front door, reaching out to grab the handle, and nearly screamed as Kreacher materialized from the darkness, right beside her.

"Miss is sneaking out again," Kreacher said quietly.

Hermione bit her lip. "Yes…I just need some air."

"Miss sneaks out to meet with _him_ , Kreacher knows." The old elf gave her a searching look.

"You can't tell Harry, please. He wouldn't understand," she spoke very softly, wary of waking the covered portrait.

"Kreacher will not tell, but Miss should take care…secrets always come out," he warned.

"I'll tell Harry…when I'm ready." Hermione nodded. Having the grouchy old elf call her Miss had taken some getting used to, but she attributed it to the part she'd played in destroying the locket. He'd seen it as some kind of service to his dead Master, and it had garnered her a measure of respect.

"Kreacher will keep the house asleep until dawn." The elf simply slipped back into the shadows and was gone.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to still the rapid pounding of her heart. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool night air. She walked up the street, feeling the stress of the day simply melt away as each step took her away from the house.

Once she'd made it a safe distance away, she ducked into an alley and apparated to a spot just outside Hogsmeade. There was a light glimmering in the darkness, and she walked through the empty streets, following the light like a beacon. The little cottage was unremarkable and the weathered wrought iron gate gave easily at her touch. The front door opened as she mounted the steps and a smile curved over her lips.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming." Draco Malfoy leaned against the door frame, an uncertain look on his face. Draco had bought this little cottage so that they would have a secret place to meet.

"I said I'd be here." Hermione reached him and stepped in close, tipping her face up to meet his eyes.

"You can't keep sneaking out in the middle of the night. Eventually we're going to have to let people know." Draco stroked his hand down her arm, pulling her against his lean body.

"I know…" Hermione rested her head on his chest and just closed her eyes. "I just wanted to pick the right moment, but there's never going to be a right time, is there?" She sighed.

"To tell Potter you've been sneaking around to spend time with me? Probably not." He chuckled and drew her inside the little cottage. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, it's not like we're doing anything wrong."

"He won't understand." She let him lead her over to the couch and pull her down to sit with him. Draco had come to her months ago, needing help to prepare his father's defence for the war tribunals. No one had been willing to defend him. After Draco had revealed all the facts, Hermione had known that regardless of what she thought about the man personally, he deserved a proper defence. The weeks working together had let her see a different side to Draco, a more vulnerable, haunted side. "I'm not ashamed of you Draco," she whispered, realizing that was how it had to look.

"Then no more hiding. Come to the Ministry Gala with me. Tell Potter first if you have to, but I don't want to keep this secret anymore. If my parents can at least accept that this is what I want, then I think your friends can too." Draco picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "Please."

Hermione met his eyes, seeing just how afraid he was that she'd walk away from him, and knew there was just one answer. "I'll tell them in the morning, and I'd love to go to the Gala with you." She leaned over and kissed him gently. "But, since I did take the trouble to sneak out…maybe we should make the most of it?" she teased.

"Silly Gryffindor." Draco smiled into her lips.

While morning would bring hard conversations with her surrogate family, Hermione knew that Draco was right. It was time to stop stealing away in the night, and face the future together in the light.

~Fin


	107. Taken Too Soon

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Attending a funeral /Word Count: 298**

 **Set after the Battle of Hogwarts.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

Another funeral, in yet another rain-soaked graveyard. There had been so many this week that they all seemed to blur together. Minerva stood amongst the cluster of survivors, watching as the coffins of Remus & Nymphradora Lupin were lowered into the earth. Her throat closed up, mentally railing against the utter unfairness that they'd both been taken so young. Their infant son was held in his grandmother's arms, Andromeda Tonks standing stoically at the front of the group of mourners. Harry stood beside her, offering what limited comfort he could, but he was so young to bear another burden.

The war was finally over, but this time there was no sense of joy or celebration, just the crushing ache of loss. Sometimes she wondered if this was some kind of karmic retribution for the joy and levity they'd all indulged in after the first war; they'd had parties and fireworks, while a young boy had been orphaned and lost everything. Perhaps, they deserved this pain now.

The Ministry wizard filled the holes in the earth and grass was magically coaxed to cover the barren plot, so everyone could come forward to lay flowers over the graves and say their final farewells. Minerva took her place in the line and when her turn came, she laid two white roses on each grave, barely opened.

"You were both too young, and taken too soon. I will never forget either of you," she whispered softly, hoping that she'd be able to keep her word to the fallen pair. It was too easy to move on and forget those left behind, but Minerva prayed that this loss would never leave her. It would remind her about how precious life was, and how hard they needed to fight to hold onto it.

~Fin


	108. I Never Saw It Coming

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Stand-in Y7. Category: Short /Prompt: Nobody warned me that it was going to be so bad/good. [First Line] /Word Count: 2927

AU: Set several years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

Nobody warned me that it was going to be so bad. Logically, I knew that conditions at Azkaban had to be horrendous, especially after I'd seen the state of Sirius Black back in my third year, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality. Honestly, I don't think there are any words that could describe what I discovered during my investigation. Merlin, save us all.

o.o.O.o.o

Part of Kingsley's new mandate, for his second term as Minister, was judicial reform. It was something that had not been terribly popular, but clearly something that he was passionate about. He wanted a complete review of everything from the actual legal code to conditions at Azkaban. Compared to other countries, our legal system was almost archaic, having not been touched in nearly two hundred years.

There was no way to apparate to the island, so I had to travel by boat. The journey over had been rough, and I was grateful that I'd decided to skip breakfast this morning. The black tower rose above the stormy seas like something out of a nightmare. I shivered and huddled deeper in my cloak as the boat was tied off and I stepped onto the dock. Kingsley had restricted the Dementors to the far side of the island a few years ago, so that they could not actively feed on the prisoners. The mere presence of so many had saturated the entire island in a kind of persistent dread. After only a few minutes, I was having a hard time thinking of anything positive. The thought of remaining here for months or years was something I didn't care to contemplate too deeply.

Two serious looking Aurors met me at the entrance to the prison, and the older of the two handed me a necklace.

"It's inscribed with runes to counter the presence of the dementors, it will also let you move freely through most levels of the prison, barring the high security floor," he explained. "I'm Auror Collins, and this is Auror Tisdale. You just let us know what you need and we'll do our best to assist you."

"Thank you, Auror Collins." I managed a smile and put the necklace on, feeling the worst of the cold and malignant feelings leave. "I'd like to start with the records room, if that's all right?"

"It's your show, Miss Granger. Whatever you need. Tisdale, show Miss Granger to her room first and then to the records hall. I have rounds." He nodded curtly and headed inside.

"You'll be staying for a few days then?" Auror Tisdale asked as we passed into the building itself. Somehow the air in here seemed even colder than it had been out on the rocky shore.

"That's the plan. Minister Shackelbolt was unsure how long the review would take." I was not really looking forward to staying out here, but it was necessary.

"We made one of the empty staff bedrooms up for you. There used to be five Aurors stationed out here on rotation, but these days lately we're lucky to have two," he said and led the way down a long hallway, stopping by a heavy wooden door. He opened it and warmth enveloped us both. "Your room is just there, and the door at the end of the hall is the kitchen/dining room. We try and eat together, keeps us from feeling too isolated out here in the middle of nowhere."

"How long are the guard rotations?" I opened the door and set my bag down. It was a surprisingly pleasant room, with a fireplace and sitting area.

"Six weeks at a stretch. Azkaban duty is voluntary, so it's usually the same five of us swapping off. It's not a nicest assignment but the bonus helps." He chuckled.

"Well, there has to be some compensation for being out here." I shuddered a bit. "Ok, I'd better get started with the records room." Once I finished with the records, I'd want to start my interviews with the prisoners and inspections of the conditions on the various levels. So far it didn't seem too bad, beyond the general atmosphere.

"You're the boss." He smiled charmingly, and showed me to another room in the Auror's wing.

The long, narrow room was full of shelves stuffed with files. I had a sudden sinking sensation, realizing that I might be here for more than just a few days. It might take me weeks to just get through this one room, never mind actually inspecting conditions. No, there was no time for dismal thoughts…I had a job to do, and standing around wasn't going to accomplish anything.

o.o.O.o.o

The files were actually the personal observations and notes of the Aurors that had been stationed at the prison. It detailed prisoner intakes, general observations, and described any incidences that occurred. They also contained a lot of personal thoughts from the individuals about their time here. In the early days, Aurors were stationed here for six months at a time, and it had not been a voluntary assignment. Some of the reports turned my stomach to read, detailing violent abuses of criminals for sport and entertainment. I couldn't believe the things written down, and then realized that they knew no one would ever care enough about the inmates here to actually read them. In truth, this was the first time anyone outside of the Aurors stationed here had looked at these files.

The more I read, the more I wanted to stop, but my sense of duty made me continue. I decided to select several files from each section and try and not get bogged down in the actions of men long dead. The horrors of the first century were just coming to a close when the door opened and a smiling Auror Tisdale came in, with some tea.

"You've been at it for hours, I thought you could use this. Dinner will be in just a little bit. I'll come and get you when it's ready," he promised.

"Thank you." I stretched a little and took the tea. "Some of this is pretty grim reading."

He nodded. "I've only ever peeked at a few, enough to convince me that I don't really want to know."

"Sadly, I have to go through it." Even after everything I'd lived through during the war, the true depths of human cruelty still could surprise me.

"Well, whatever you need, just let us know," he said and left.

Driven by some strange urge, I reached out and chose my next file from the most recent entries. The first pages in the file were written by Auror Collins, and they were rather dry. I shook my head, realizing that I was just being paranoid. There was something about this place that seemed designed to prey on the fears and insecurities of the people inside it. Probably a legacy left from the Tower's original occupant, the dark wizard Ekrizdis. All of the reports from the Aurors dispatched to the tower for the first time were suspiciously vague, but conveyed a sense of utter horror. Was it possible for evil to leave a stain so deep and lasting that generations to come would feel its effects?

I set the file aside and massaged my temples. Perhaps that was enough files for the time being. Tomorrow, I'd start my own list and detail all the detainees, their crimes and sentences. I'd get a feel for the condition of the inmates and between that and perhaps some input from the Aurors I could come up with a comprehensive plan to overhaul the wizarding prison.

I left the records room, and followed the wonderful smell of cooking chicken and smiled. "That smells wonderful."

Auror Collins turned as I came in and nodded. "It's nothing fancy, but it'll keep you going." He motioned for her to sit at the table. "Did Tisdale get you all set up?"

"Yes, he was very helpful." I smiled as the grizzled old Auror brought over some tea. "Thank you."

"Now, I'm sure that you'll think I'm being overly cautious, but I advise you to ward your door at night. I'd hate for anything to happen to you out here, the Minister was clear we were responsible for your safety," he said, before turning back to the stove.

"I'll make sure that I do. Where is Auror Tisdale?"

"Just doing evening rounds. He's a wretched cook, and I've never much cared for letting house elves cook for me," he said.

"Do elves feed the prisoners?"

"Yes ma'am, too many for us to be tending to. Since the end of the war, prisoners get three squares…more'n they deserve in my opinion, but that's regulation now." He added. "Its plain food, but they won't be starving on our watch."

I nodded, seeing the sense of that. "What kind of changes would you like to see?"

"No offense meant to you, or the Minister, but I'm of the opinion that if it isn't broke, don't fix it. These people are criminals and they earned a place here. I don't like the thought of making it pleasant for them. I'll do whatever I'm ordered to Miss Granger, but doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Fair enough," I said. "I fought against more than a few of the high security prisoners in the war, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the reforms either." Auror Collins was the senior officer here, it would be better to stay on his good side and keep his willing assistance.

"When you're ready to inspect the upper levels, I'm happy to stay with you. It's not exactly the kind of place a nice witch should be in," he said carefully. "I know I sure as hell wouldn't want my daughter spending too much time here."

"I'd appreciate that." Spending time around the convicted Death Eaters wasn't exactly my idea of a good time either.

"All right then, dinner's about ready. We'll leave some to heat up for Tisdale once he's finished," Collins said and dished up some chicken and dumplings for us. After dinner, I helped with the dishes and then said my goodnights. Taking the Auror's advice, I warded my door securely and tried to get some sleep.

o.o.O.o.o

After eleven floors of inspections, my enthusiasm for this project had all but evaporated. It was a soul-sucking march of depressing stories and people. The lower levels were reserved for the petty criminals, those serving shorter sentences for minor crimes. The cells were bare, with the inmates sleeping on rough pallets, and forced to use magically emptying buckets for their bodily functions. The smell of unwashed bodies lingered as they continued steadily upwards.

Auror Collins was a silent shadow, escorting me through the prison. Tisdale had been off to work before I'd crawled out of bed, but the older Auror had been waiting patiently. The lift was now taking us to the high security cells at the very top of the tower. Only a small amount of the entire prison tower was in use, owing to the relatively small population of the British wizarding community and modest crime rate. As we reached the top floor, the old Auror reached out and touched my elbow.

"You don't need to do this, you know," he said, watching me with a closed expression on his face. "The cells are no different, and I can just give you the names and details of the inmates. You could be out of here before dinner."

"Thank you, Auror Collins…but I need to do this." I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he merely released me and looked almost sad somehow.

"Very well. I'll wait here by the lift." His voice was cool and distant.

Shaking off a strange feeling, I stepped onto the high security floor and nearly gagged at the smell. It smelled almost like something had died up here, and as I turned to question Collins, I saw that he had shut the security bars behind me.

"What are you doing?" My eyes widened as he just turned and walked over to the levers that controlled the doors of the cells.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you interfere; they need to pay for what they've done. No one will want to reform Azkaban, after they hear how the inmates escaped and murdered you and Tisdale. They'll see that they're evil and should be left out here to rot." He lowered three levers and turned away. "You should have just taken my word for things."

"NO!" I grabbed the bars and pulled at them frantically as I heard the doors scraping open behind me. There were magical suppression runes carved into the bars, I wouldn't be able to open them from inside, even with my wand. I turned and pressed my back against the bars, drawing my wand and trying to get ready for the fight that was coming. Merlin, who had he released?

From the shadowy cells, three figures stepped out. Two I knew by reputation alone, but the third I knew all too well. Antonin Dolohov and the Lestrange brothers looked horrendous, easily two stones lighter than I remembered them being. Dolohov was the closest and he raised his hands.

"Easy there, witch…" he spoke slowly, flicking his eyes to the other two. "We're not so keen on being that prick's murder weapons. Killing Tisdale was one thing…killing you, something else."

I snorted and didn't lower my wand. "You seriously expect me to believe that you don't want me dead? You tried to kill me when I was sixteen." My eyes narrowed.

"If I'd actually been trying to kill you girl, you'd be dead," Dolohov said simply. "You're more useful to us alive. You help us, we'll help you. I have no doubt that if Collins returns and finds you breathing, that he'll finish the job himself. Bastard killed McNair three weeks ago…that's the rot you're smelling. Old bastard's completely cracked."

My eyes flicked to the brothers behind Dolohov. "What did you have in mind?"

"You have a wand, and the wall at the far end of this floor is significantly weaker than the rest of the building. They cut corners when they rebuilt it after the mass escape. I can talk you through dismantling the wards and you can escape. If I do, you agree to turn a blind eye while we escape with you," he said reasonably. "Or we can amuse ourselves with you until Collins returns and kills us all to create his cheery little narrative about an attempted escape. It's your choice, but I suggest you make it quickly."

"Or I could stun all three of you, and ambush him when he returns." It was not a good choice, any way I tried to look at it.

"Come now, you were always the smart one. You know you might get one or two of us, but the third would overwhelm you. As out of condition as we are, you're no match for us physically." Dolohov countered.

I hated that he was right. "Fine, but I want your word that you won't come after me later."

"You leave us alone, Miss Granger, and I give you my word that we will leave you alone in turn," Rodolphus Lestrange finally spoke. "Now, I suggest you get to work. We don't have a great deal of time."

Quickly, I followed Dolohov to a section of wall that seemed newer than the rest of the walls around it. I got to work, listening to Dolohov's instructions as I attacked the heavy layers of wards. He was surprisingly knowledgeable, and I found myself wondering who he'd been before turning into the follower of a raving psychotic. The last layer faltered and I backed away and focused on the wall, hitting it with a violent _bombarda maxima_. The stones exploded outwards, and together we leapt out. Simultaneous charms to slow our fall and cushion the landing kept us from breaking our necks or anything else.

It still hurt, but I got to my feet and shivered in the freezing cold rain that was battering the rocks. I focused and transfigured a boat, knowing we had to get out of here before Collins figured out where we were. Dolohov gripped my elbow to steady me as we scrambled over the treacherous rocks and all clambered into the large row boat.

The men took turns rowing, and had me sit in the middle, casting charms to keep the waves from swamping the boat. By the time we reached shore, I was frozen and exhausted. Dolohov ended up carrying me onto the beach and he set me down with a cautious look.

"Best get yourself to the Ministry and quickly. Hopefully, we never meet again." He winked and then turned. He nodded to the Lestranges and the three men disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone on the rainy shore.

I was shaking, and not just from the cold. The reality of just how narrow my escape had been was very evident to me. If it had been three different Death Eaters, there was no guarantee that I'd still be breathing. No matter how much I'd dreaded going to Azkaban in the first place, nothing could have prepared me for what had happened. Tears stung my eyes just thinking about Auror Tisdale. Hopefully, I could make sure that his death was not in vain. If I had my way, that whole tower would be ripped down, stone by stone.

~Fin


	109. The Juicy News

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Stand in Y7. Category: Standard / Prompt: "You didn't hear it from me, but," / Word Count: 794

AU – Lavender survives DH.

o.o.O.o.o

Gossip. It was such a naughty pastime, passing along half-heard bits of conversation and propagating wild theories as truth. Rita positively LOVED gossip and on the back of it had built an illustrious career as one of the Daily Prophet's most celebrated journalists. Certainly, she took the odd liberty with the facts, but overall there was a niggling bit of truth in everything she wrote. It was merely the size of that piece of truth that sometimes…varied.

The war had been a difficult period in her life, writing only what she was instructed to by a scowling Corban Yaxley, but thanks to the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Sell-Stories, those days were long behind her. She hurried along the uneven cobblestones of Knockturn Alley, aware that she was cutting it close to reach her meeting. Finding anyone willing to sell information about the Golden Trio was difficult, but always so worthwhile. She'd received an anonymous owl yesterday requesting the meeting, and her fingers were practically itching to start writing a new expose.

The White Wyvern was a disreputable little pub and Rita's favourite place to meet sources. A few galleons guaranteed privacy in one of the little back rooms, and no one ever wanted to know your business here. She entered and saw a witch in a black hooded cloak in one of the back booths, their pre-arranged meeting place. She headed over and as she passed the bar, Rita slipped some gold to the old wizard and he nodded to one of the back rooms.

"Come, let's get cozy in one of the private rooms," Rita told the young witch, and drew her out of the main pub. She was somewhat familiar, but Skeeter wasn't entirely sure why. She was young, pretty in a plain sort of way, with wavy blonde hair. "Now, why don't you introduce yourself, since we're going to become the very best of friends." Rita pulled out her acid green quill, and notepad as they settled down onto chairs.

"I'm Lavender Brown, and I remember you wrote those things about Hermione Granger back when we were all in fourth year." The girl chewed on her bottom lip, nervously.

"Oh yes, of course, Lavender. I felt it my duty to warn the male contingent of Hogwarts about her, even if they seem to have forgotten." I smiled sweetly at her, trying to lull her into a false sense of security. "Is your information about her?" she asked, anticipation making her eyes almost gleam.

"No one will know that it was me that told you, right?" Lavender looked hesitant.

"Of course not, a journalist never reveals her anonymous sources. It'll be our little secret." The plume of the quik-quotes quill fairly quivered with excitement.

"You didn't hear it from me, but," Lavender leaned in, "Hermione Granger was sacked from the Ministry last night. I overheard the entire conversation between her and old Mr. Cresswell. They released a statement today saying she'd left the Ministry to pursue personal research, but that's a complete lie! She apparently hexed Morias Karne completely unprovoked last week and he filed formal complaints against her. It was something about House Elves, and she's always been a bit batty about them. I can't believe they're covering it up to protect her. People should know just how unstable she is." Lavender's face twisted with barely contained fury. "I shared a dorm room with her all through school, and I tell you there's something not right about that witch. The House Elves even refused to clean our dorm room for a whole semester because she was trying to forcibly free them against their will. Utterly mad, I tell you."

"You don't say," Rita fairly purred as the quill started jotting down the main points. So little Miss Perfection had gotten sacked, and the Ministry was covering it up to protect her reputation. Well, that just wouldn't do. Rita smelled a special edition coming, and lots of galleons in bonuses from her editor. "So, Lavender, what else can you tell me about Hermione Granger? I imagine you know all sorts of juicy little tidbits." She leaned in, looking somewhat like a cat stalking a mouse.

Lavender looked conflicted for a moment, and then leaned in. "Let me tell you all about when she stole my boyfriend from me in sixth Year. She's a horrid little thief and if I were Ginny Potter, I'd be keeping a very close eye on my husband. After all, who knows what they got up to when they were on the run together during the war?" Lavender had years of resentment built up, and she was letting it all come out.

Rita lapped it up, certain that this was going to be the start of a very lucrative relationship.

~Fin


	110. Brotherly Discord

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Negative Pairing] Charlie Weasley/Bill Weasley / Word Count: 931**

 **AU – Charlie does not join the Order of the Phoenix.**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

"Damnit Charlie, we need you! What's so damned important in Romania that you can ignore what going on here?" Bill slammed his hand down on the table, unable to help the anger surging through him. He was getting married tomorrow and he did not need this shit right now.

"I have a life in Romania, Bill. Don't you think that maybe I had reasons to move half-way across the globe to get away from here, to get away from all of this! If you were half as smart as you think you are, you'd take Fleur and move to France until this is all over. Don't get sucked into this, it's only going to get you killed." Charlie's face was set into hard lines, clearly ready for a fight.

"You want me to run away and just leave our parents, our brothers, and sister to fight this on their own? You bloody coward," Bill walked around the table hauled his brother up by the front of his shirt. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie broke away and shoved Bill back, fixing him with an intense look, something wild and dangerous lurking there. "I play with dragons for a living, Bill…don't ever call me a coward," he said darkly. "Everyone has to make their own choices, and I've made mine. I am not giving up my life and my research for some crazy old man's crusade. Dumbledore threw all of you into this and let children fight this war, doesn't that strike you as odd? He's the wizard that took out Grindlewald, and yet he's got to stand back and let a kid not even out of school fight You-Know-Who? Bollocks, Bill."

"The prophecy…" Bill protested.

"Sod the damn prophecy! You know as well as I do that they're murky things at best and subject to a lot of interpretation. They're only as true as people make them. He used this entire family for years and what has it gotten us? We're a joke Bill, something everyone sneers at and I am sick of it." He turned away and walked over to the window. "I went to Romania because no one there has ever heard of our family, and I can just be judged on my merits. No one cares that I prefer blokes, that I grew up poor, or that our father putters around with muggle oddities in the garden shed. They only care that I'm one of the best damned Dragon handlers in the business, and if there's trouble they can count on me to fix it." His voice lost some of its venom. "I worked hard to build a reputation for myself. I'm not going to throw it away and coming back here to fight in some war over things that don't matter to me."

"They're murdering muggles and muggle-borns, he's evil Charlie. We have to stand against him." Bill felt like he could hardly recognize his brother.

Charlie let out a harsh laugh. "And what have muggles and muggle-borns done for us? Dad's obsession with muggles landed him in a dead-end job in the Ministry, getting paid less than some third year clerks make. Muggleborns don't assimilate, and try to change our wold to suit them. I may hate what they're doing, but you're lying to yourself if you say you don't understand why they're doing it." He turned and looked at his brother. "I'm not getting involved Bill, and that's the end of it." He brushed past him, headed off towards the stairs.

Bill watched him go, feeling helpless as he sank down into a chair. He was getting married tomorrow and it was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, but all he could feel right now was pain and betrayal.

o.o.O.o.o

Morning came too soon, and Bill wasn't surprised to see that Charlie had left sometime in the night. He'd told their mum some cock and bull story about an emergency at the Reserve, but Bill knew the truth. He went through the motions of getting dressed, when he found a letter in his jacket pocket.

 _Bill,_

 _I'm bullocks at goodbyes, but just try reading this before you set it on fire. That's my trick, remember. I'm sorry that I'm not that man you clearly thought I was, but we're not kids anymore and we both have our own paths to walk. When I needed you, you weren't there for me, so don't be surprised that I'm not here now. You were my big brother Bill, when I needed someone on my side, you walked away and ran off to Egypt. Now it's my turn to walk away._

 _I wish you every happiness with Fleur, she seems like a good woman and anyone that can back mother up a bit is fine by me. Enjoy today and try not to worry about what comes next._

 _Your brother,_

 _Charlie_

Bill crumpled the note up and shoved it back into his pocket, hating that Charlie was right. He'd graduated from Hogwarts and then run away as fast as his legs could carry him. He'd thrown letter after letter from home away, later claiming they'd never gotten to him. The work in the ancient tombs had consumed him, and if he was honest he hadn't cared about what was happening back home. He couldn't give up on Charlie; they needed him in this fight, but he just didn't know how to bring him back around. He supposed it didn't matter, he had more important things to worry about today, like marrying the witch of his dreams.

~Fin


	111. Chasing Respect

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Short /Prompt: [Object] Hand-me-down broomstick / Word Count: 1557**

 **Could be considered Canon Compliant.**

o.o.O.o.o

Severus flinched as the front door slammed, the impact sending vibrations up through the house. At least that meant that his father was gone, hopefully off on a bender that would last until he was back at school. He couldn't help the disdainful sneer that crossed his face whenever he thought about his father. The automatic expression had gotten him smacked around more than once, the muggle rightly realizing that Severus was looking down on him…judging him. Merlin, he hated everything about the man that had sired him. He just didn't understand why his mother stayed with him; she was a witch from an old family and there had to have been some better choice than this. He resented the hell out of the fact that she stayed with the abusive bastard, and in so doing made him stay too.

This had been the worst summer since he'd started Hogwarts so far, with only a smattering of letters from his Slytherin year-mates to help keep him sane. His blow-up with Lily meant that his only local friend might as well be residing on the moon, for all the good it did him. He'd gone to the Evans' home just after they'd returned from school, only to have Mr. Evans explain that Lily didn't want to speak to him and that it would be best to give her a little space. The man had been sympathetic, but firm. Severus hadn't gone back, not wanting to face that humiliation again. She'd washed her hands of him and he could hardly blame her for that.

He'd received a letter from Lucius Malfoy a few weeks ago, expressing an interest in Severus' extracurricular brewing activities. He claimed that he'd heard about Severus' growing prowess from mutual friends. He knew that the older Slytherin likely had ulterior motives for beginning this correspondence, but Malfoy influence was too valuable to just toss away. He'd shared some of his ideas and also expressed a passing interest in joining the Quidditch team for the coming year. It was unlikely he'd make the team, since he'd have to use one of the ancient school brooms, but he enjoyed the game. Without Lily he needed something to eat up his free hours or he'd only go further down the rabbit hole into his research.

The sound of wings interrupted his thoughts as a pair of owls soared in through his window and deposited their large burden onto his threadbare comforter. Severus frowned, absolutely confused. The size and shape of the package could only be a broomstick, but he hadn't ordered one and his mother certainly couldn't have afforded to buy him one either. He found a folded note, tucked under the twine binding the wrappings, and flipped it open.

 _Severus,_

 _I was wondering if you might be able to make use of this old broomstick. I was cleaning out my broom cupboard to make room for my new Nimbus 1700. You mentioned that you were keen to try out for Chaser this year, and I think this just might give you the edge you need. This was my favourite broom when I was playing for the House team, and maybe some of its luck will rub off on you._

 _Do let me know how tryouts go and good luck with your studies. I look forward to hearing from you once you're back at Hogwarts and settled into your new courses. The first year of NEWT studies is always a bit of a shock from the year before._

 _Your Friend,_

 _Lucius A. Malfoy._

Severus carefully unwrapped the plain brown paper and sucked in a breath. The handle was a little worn, and there were a few nicks and dings in the finish, but the Nimbus 1001 was in beautiful condition. Even used, this broom would have cost more than he'd ever have been able to afford and he stroked his hand over the handle almost reverently. No one had ever given him anything so valuable, and while he knew that it likely didn't mean a lot to someone like Lucius Malfoy, used to have the best of everything, this nearly made his throat close up a little. With a broom like this, he should easily make the team, knowing that most of his competition would be flying Cleansweeps or Shooting Stars.

A small dark smile crossed his lips as he imagined out flying James bloody Potter as well. If they did nothing else this year, he wanted to beat the smug look off that ponce's face. If he couldn't do it with a wand, he'd do it on the pitch where it would hurt Potter even more. He finished packing and decided that he'd get his mother to shrink everything down for him and leave for London early. Usually he caught a ride with Lily, but this year he'd have to make his own way. He could catch the Knight Bus tonight and avoid the morning crowds at King's Cross by arriving early. It would also keep his precious new broomstick safe from his father's rages.

o.o.O.o.o

"Alright, let's have all the chasers up. You lot will be team one, and the rest of you team two!" Crispin Osbert shouted, the captain of the Quidditch Team was the Keeper and known to be a hard ass.

Severus shot up into the air, the Nimbus that Lucius had given him responding beautifully to the slightest shifts of his weight as he moved to the front of the flying formations. The broom's acceleration rate and agile handling let him weave through the crowded pitch, snagging the Quaffle and streaking towards the hoops. A bludger collided hard with his shoulder, but he just gritted his teeth and kept flying. The competition was fierce, even in the tryouts, and he needed to prove that nothing would stop him. He hurled the quaffle through the hoops and ignored the searing pain in his arm as they kept playing. It felt like an eternity before Osbert called an end to the exercise and had them line up.

"Alright, listen up. Beaters, we're going to run with Crabbe and Goyle. For seeker, Rosier you'll be primary and Avery you'll be reserve. If this year is anything like last, you'll see lots of action." He made vague reference to the incredible amount of injuries there had been. "Chasers, you guys made it tough, but we're going to start the season with Black, Snape, and Towes. Reserves will have their names posted in the Common Room tomorrow, after I think about it some more," he said. "First practice will be Sunday morning, 6 am here on the pitch. If you don't show up, you forfeit your spot."

Severus felt a smile cross his face, lasting until Avery came over and thumped him hard on the back, catching his injured shoulder. "Shite," he hissed and nearly went onto his knees.

"Sorry mate! Come on, let's get you to Madame Pomfrey." Avery helped him up. "Well done Snape, you were flying like a demon," Avery said and Rosier and McNair fell in step with them.

"Where did you get a Nimbus? Those are bloody brilliant," Rosier asked.

"It was a gift," Severus said simply. "We are going to destroy Gryffindor this year." He smirked darkly.

"This doesn't have anything to do with wanting to destroy Potter and Black does it?" Avery grinned viciously, matching Snape's expression.

"It has everything to do with it."

It didn't take very long for Madame Pomfrey to fix his shoulder, clucking about dangerous sports and foolish boys, but she didn't really give them too much trouble over it. Mostly, Severus was just in a bit of shock that he'd earned a place on the team. He wasn't exactly the kind of boy you thought about when you imagined your average Quidditch Player, not handsome or attractive, but he would fly as long and as hard as he needed to in order to win their games. Maybe that was why Osbert had chosen him. Whatever the reason, he was just glad that the Captain had chosen him over the others.

Back down in the dorms, Severus settled onto his bed and started cleaning his Nimbus. He smoothed the polishing wax over the handle and carefully buffed out the nicks and marks in the wood. For him it was more than a mere broomstick, it was a chance to get some respect from his housemates and prove that he wasn't just a worthless bookworm. Respect within his house was all he had left now, Potter and Black had seen to that, and so he'd do whatever he had to in order to build his reputation. On the edge of the handle, he saw where Lucius had carved his initials into the handle, the LM worn down over the years of use. Severus got his penknife out and added his own, SS, marking the broom as his. He wondered if Lucius knew just how much this meant to him, or if he had just honestly given him the broom as a way to clear out the old ones in his broom cupboard. He frowned a bit, but in the end realized it didn't matter. The Nimbus was his now, and it was a little piece of freedom that no one could steal away from him now.

~Fin


	112. Blood Doesn't Make You Family

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Additional / Prompt:** **3228-3382 words, must feature a Next Gen character / Word Count: 3236**

 **AU – Diverges from Canon directly after the Epilogue. Set During the Winter Holidays of Albus' fifth year.**

o.o.O.o.o

Albus Severus Potter wasn't like his other siblings. That much had always been clear, but once he started his schooling at Hogwarts, those differences were highlighted sharply the second the hat declared 'Slytherin'. Deep in his heart, he'd always known that he wouldn't be joining James in Gryffindor and he'd been afraid of how it would change things. His father had reassured him by telling him that his house didn't really matter and that there was nothing wrong with being a Slytherin, but after his first year he could see that his father had lied to him.

The Sorting Hat had seen deep into his mind, pulled all his secrets forward and whispered to him about things that he'd never dared dream of. Greatness. Power. Control. It had promised that Slytherin could put him on the path to all those things, if he just embraced that side of himself. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged and he hated that his parents couldn't see that. They had never really understood him, or even bothered to try. What infuriated him most of all, was how his parents spoke about the Malfoys. Scorpius was his best friend and his parents had never been anything but kind to him. He knew the Malfoys had been on opposite sides of the war from his parents, but that was done now. Mr. Malfoy had even told him about how his father had testified at the Death Eater trials and gotten him released. It just didn't make any sense that his parents were holding onto ancient history.

The conversation he'd overheard in the kitchen one night, in the summer after his third year, just kept playing through his head.

" _I won't have that boy here, Harry. I can't," Ginny said firmly._

" _Gin, we let James and Lily bring their friends over all the time. It's not fair to Al that we always find a reason why his friends can't come for visits. He's getting old enough now to notice that it's always his friends that we say no to." Harry sounded tired, like this was an old argument. The scuff of a chair leg against the floor told Al his father was now sitting._

" _James and Lily have nice friends," Ginny said quietly. "Who knows what sort of boys he's spending time with in the Dungeons? You know what they're all like, especially that Malfoy boy. You can't tell me he's any different from his father or grandfather. No…think of some excuse Harry, I won't have him here. It's bad enough Albus was sorted into Slytherin, I won't encourage him spent his free time with them."_

His father had come to see him later, explaining that it was going to be too busy for Scorpius to visit because they would be going to busy with Granny Weasley, but Albus had seen the shadow in his father's eyes and knew he was lying. James and Lily had nice Gryffindor friends, acceptable friends. That was the day everything changed in the Potter household, the day Albus stopped trusting his parents. They preached acceptance and tolerance, but in their hearts they were hypocrites.

o.o.O.o.o

"Al! Come on, we're going to be late heading to Grans if you don't get a move on!" James shouted as he opened the door to Albus' room. The oldest of the Potter siblings was tall, handsome and built like the champion Quidditch player he was.

"I'm not coming," Albus said, not looking up from his work. Books were spread over the bed, and he was jotting notes down on his notepad while he worked. There were little amendments scrawled in the margins of many of his books, areas he'd underlined to revisit later. His OWL year was brutal, and if not for Aunt 'Mione's study planner he'd be drowning under the workload. "I'm busy."

"Oh come on, Al. It's just dinner, your books won't implode if you leave them alone for five minutes." James reached over and flipped a book shut. "Let's go, stop being such a Slytherin stick in the mud."

"Piss off, James!" Al hissed at him and scowled as he tried to find his spot again. Merlin, he was so sick of this. "I'm not coming, so shove off."

"Mum's gonna be pissed," James warned him.

Al just rolled his eyes, like he cared. Mum was always pissed at him, or _disappointed_. "Don't let the door hit you in the arse on the way out," he drawled as James stormed off. He was attempting to finish his transfiguration essay and the last thing he needed was to sit through a noisy family dinner listening to Uncle Ron tell stories about how they'd humiliated his friend's father back in school. The ferret story really did not get funnier after the fiftieth rendition. He was glad Aunt 'Mione had left the bigoted prat last year, but it meant that the only intelligent member of their extended family wouldn't be there for dinner.

"ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" His mother's voice echoed up through the house, and Albus scowled instantly. He got up and slammed his door shut, flicking a couple wards at it. His parents could break through them eventually, but it would buy him a little time. They'd be pissed at him using magic over the holidays, but he was done caring. Albus was done pretending to be like the rest of them, because he wasn't.

It took a good twenty minutes for his father to get through the wards, and Albus didn't look up from his notes as he came in. He was sprawled on his bed, as if he were perfectly at ease, and knew his parents weren't clever enough to see through the mask.

"Albus, you know how your mother and I feel about you using magic away from Hogwarts," Harry began.

"We both know rules about under-aged sorcery were designed for muggleborns because their parents can't supervise it, and there's so much magic in this house they can't track mine anyway." Albus didn't look up from his book, his tone bored and a little irreverent.

"Albus, put down the book and look at me," His father said firmly.

Albus set the book aside and lifted his eyes to meet his father's. He lifted an eyebrow, putting every ounce of disdain he could muster into his expression. "I'm not going to dinner at Gran's," he said calmly.

"I know you and your brother don't get along, but you're still part of this family. Come on, put the books away and get cleaned up to go to your Grandmother's," he said calmly.

"No. Besides, no one actually wants me there anyway," Albus said and picked up his book again. "I wrote Gran yesterday telling her I wasn't coming, she replied that it was fine and I should focus on my studies. So go to dinner, and you and Uncle Ron can tell your stupid stories and no one will care that you sound just like the bullies that you claim Scorpius' Dad was."

"I know your Uncle can get a little…enthusiastic about those stories Albus, but he loves you too." Harry sighed.

"No, he doesn't. He never misses a chance to make a dig at my House, or my friends. Friends you and mum won't even let visit me over the Hols because she thinks they're scum." He looked up then, eyes burning with barely contained rage. "Scorpius is my best friend, and James is an utter bastard to him and me while we're at school. Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it isn't happening. So no, I'm not going to Gran's for dinner to sit and listen to that crap anymore."

"We'll talk about this more when we get home, but this conversation isn't over, Albus," Harry said and stood, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Albus waited until he heard them leave, and then he got up and started packing his things. All of his books went into the trunk, his trinkets and possessions…everything that meant something to him. He'd been thinking about this a lot, and knew it would be for the best. He didn't belong here, amongst the bright shining pride of lions, he never had. He placed a letter onto his pillow and grabbed his trunk, dragging it down the winding staircase to the front hall Floo. Standing in the hallway, he cast his eyes over the home where he'd grown up and felt nothing but sadness. He'd never come back here. He grabbed a pinch of powder and threw it down.

"Malfoy Manor," he spoke clearly and was spun through the floo system, landing in the foyer of his best friend's house. Seeing the familiar space sent relief flooding through him, he just hoped that Scorpius' father would take him in. There was a little *pop* and one of the Malfoy elves appeared. "Hi Tippy, can you tell Scorpius I'm here?" She nodded and disappeared.

It was Scorpius' father that arrived to the foyer first. He took one look at Albus and just placed a hand on his shoulder. "Scorpius is on the pitch, he'll be in as soon as he puts his broom away. Come on, let's get you some hot chocolate and you can tell me what's wrong." Draco patted his back and led him towards the kitchen.

o.o.O.o.o

"I want to see my son, Malfoy! You have no right to keep him from me." Harry was on the outside of the Manor gates, standing in a snow drift with his face flushed with rage.

"Your son requested sanctuary, and you know full well that he had reason to do it," Draco said. "He's sixteen and has the right to leave home if he feels that he is not wanted. Merlin knows you've certainly made him feel that. It's no different from what your godfather did when he claimed sanctuary with the Potters. You can't force me to return him and I'm sure your supervisor at the Auror's office made that clear." Draco couldn't help the little lift of the corner of his mouth. There had been a formal request from the Auror's division yesterday for the return of Albus, but he had responded that the boy had asked and been granted formal sanctuary. Until he came of age next year, Albus would be a ward of the Malfoys and there wasn't a damned thing that Potter could do about it. It had to stick in his craw that all of his fame and all his influence couldn't make his son come home. "For what it's worth, I did ask him to come and talk to you."

"You must just love this, Malfoy. You finally get revenge by poisoning my son against me!" Harry slammed his hand against the iron of the gate.

"Sad thing is Potter, I never had to. I've never once said a word against you, or your family. If you want someone to blame for this, you only need to look in the closest mirror." Draco shook his head and looked at his old nemesis feeling a strange wash of pity. "I let go of all that crap years ago, about the same time the Dark Lord decided to make my home his summer house. House rivalries are bit silly when compared against life and death. I was a spoilt, arrogant little prat and it took a war to make me look hard at my life. I left all that crap behind, it's not my fault that your family couldn't. Albus is bright, driven young man that you should have been proud of. He and Scorpius are best friends and they bring out the best in each other. I don't know why you've never been able to see that." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "All he ever wanted was for you to accept him as he is, until you can…I don't think he'll speak with you."

"I'll find a way to make him come home, Malfoy," Harry promised and apparated away.

Draco just shook his head sadly and headed back up to the house, unsure how to try and help Potter and his son bridge the gaping chasm between them and wondering if he even wanted to. He remembered his son writing to him after his sorting in first year, telling him all about the quiet dark-haired boy that had been sorted into Slytherin with him. He'd written how the boy was certain his family would hate him because of it, and that he clearly needed a friend. Draco's advice to his son had simply been to be good house-mate and support the unlikely Slytherin. Those words had led to a friendship that had honestly surprised him with its strength.

Watching the two of them spending time together made him wonder sometimes about how things might have been different, if Potter had taken his hand all those years ago. Would he have made different choices, and would things have turned out differently? The myriad possibilities spun through his head at the oddest times. Regardless of what might have been then, he was grateful that his son had Albus now. With Torie's death last year, he'd been terrified that he would lose Scorpius to the anger and grief that had followed. Albus had been there for him, through all of it. Over those weeks after Torie died, Albus had become part of the family and it honestly didn't matter to him anymore if his last name was Potter, or that his mother was a Weasley.

"Draco," Lucius came out of the study. "I trust Mr. Potter was unsatisfied with the answers you gave him?"

"I can't blame him, if it was me I wouldn't just give up either." Draco headed over. His father had been released from Azkaban two years ago, and was on restrictive probation for the time being. They were working on repairing their relationship, but it was slow going for obvious reasons. "He'll fight it, but at the end of the day, Albus was smart about this and did it in a way his father's influence couldn't subvert him."

"I have a feeling someone helped him find that particular statute, it's not exactly a common one," Lucius said and gestured for Draco to join him back in the study. He shut the doors behind them and went to pour his son a drink.

"Who do you think pointed him in that direction?" Draco frowned and sat down, accepting the drink his father handed him.

"I overheard your grandfather talking to him the other night in the library. I suspect he's been subtly influencing the boy for some time," Lucius said and took his own seat. "He always did enjoy a project."

Draco shook his head. "Should I be concerned?"

"No, he's a young pureblood and acceptable enough not to fall afoul of my father's prejudices. I will keep an eye on it though, and inform you should that change," Lucius promised.

Draco nodded, still worried. After the war, he had tried to remove the portrait of his Grandfather from the library, but the enchantments holding it were impressive. Abraxas Malfoy had been one of Riddle's early friends and greatest supporter, so his influence was not something he'd particularly wanted around Scorpius. Learning that he might be whispering into Albus' ear made him uncomfortable, but his father was right. Albus was a pureblood and a Slytherin, he should be fairly safe from Abraxas' ire and as a portrait there was only so much he could do. Or at least, he hoped so.

o.o.O.o.o

Albus was leaning against the smooth stone railing on the west patio, his vibrant green eyes looking out over the snowy garden. It was cold, but the warming charm on his cloak kept him from freezing and it was one of his favourite spots at the Manor to go and think. Over the years he'd spent a lot of time here, and sometimes it felt more like home to him than his parent's house ever did. It wasn't the grandeur of the building, or the expensive gifts that Scorpius and his family gave him, it was the fact that when he was here, he never needed to hide who he was. They accepted him and never made him feel like he didn't belong.

The crunch of footsteps in the snow made him look over his shoulder and he smiled as Scorpius approached, huddled deep in his winter cloak.

"It's bloody freezing out here, Asp," Scorpius shuddered dramatically and leaned against the railing beside him, bumping his shoulder against the slighter boy's.

His nickname drew a small smile across his lips. "Use a warming charm, genius," he teased back.

"I figured I'd find you here. You always slip out to this side of the house to think." Scorpius' face sobered a little. He smiled a lot less these days, had ever since his mother had died.

"I guess I just needed a little bit of time to wrap my head around everything," he said and turned his gaze back out to the garden. "Do you think I did the right thing?"

"It's not for me to say, Asp. Family's important, but you haven't been happy for a long time and the tradition exists for a reason. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, so I'm not exactly disappointed that you chose to be here," The blonde admitted quietly. "You got me through a lot last year, now it's my turn to be here for you. Your dad's not going to make this easy for you though," Scorpius warned quietly.

"I know, but it's just too little, too damned late, Scorp." Albus' jaw tightened, resolve settling over his features. "You know what really kills me? Every year Gran knits jumpers for us all, and she does everyone's in their house colours…everyone's except mine." He felt tears welling up in his eyes. "As if by knitting something in Slytherin colours would taint her, or something." Scorpius reached over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a hug without restricting him too much. It just made the tears fall faster, and he turned into Scorpius chest hating that he needed comfort, but taking it all the same.

"It'll be ok, Asp," Scorpius whispered and held him tightly. "You're worth a hundred of any of them, and one day we're going to show everyone how wrong they were about you. Just you and me, like we always planned."

"Just you and me, Scorp," Albus replied, trying to get a hold of his emotions. There was no time for recriminations now, he'd made his choice and now he would have to live with it.

"Hey, look at the bright side, you get to celebrate Yule here this year and it's going to be brilliant." Scorpius smiled. "Let's go and run some Quidditch drills before dinner, we need to make sure you're in good shape for the game against Gryffindor. Ready to give your brother hell?" A devilish smirk crossed Scorpius' face.

"You bet," Albus said and took a deep breath, wiping his tears away and straightening up. "We're going to utterly destroy them this year." And if they happened to ruin James' winning streak the year the scouts would be out watching for him, so much the better.

~Fin


	113. Strange Bedfellows

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Additional / Prompt: 188-228 words, must be related to a magical creature of some sort / Word Count: 203

o.o.O.o.o

Charlie chuckled as a little sharp pain in his earlobe woke him, and rolled over to give his scaly roommate an amused look. The orphaned baby Romanian Longhorn, had hatched late and been rejected by its mother. They were so ridiculously endangered that every hatchling was precious, so Charlie had volunteered to be its 'mother' until it was big enough to join the colony. He sat up in bed and cuddled the dragon to his chest, tickling its belly scales. It chortled happily and nipped at his fingers, stopping just shy of drawing blood. Clever thing.

"You're a silly little thing, aren't you, Stubbs?" Charlie smiled and got up, carrying the hatchling into the kitchen. It scurried up his arm and perched on his shoulder, while he poured himself a coffee and got the baby its breakfast of chicken blood and chopped up organ meat.

"Eat up, Stubbs. You're still behind your hatch-mates and we need to get a little size on you," he coached him, laughing as the dragonette blew little bubbles in the blood. They were just so damned adorable at this size. Too soon he'd have to join the colony, but for now Charlie could enjoy these precious moments.

~Fin


	114. Life Skills

Written for the Houses Competition, Representing Slytherin. Y3 standin. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Shaving for the first time / Word Count: 274

o.o.O.o.o

I stood beside Draco, a small smile on my lips as I watched him pick up the straight razor. My son was focused intently on the mirror, hand wavering a little as he placed the blade against his skin and dragged it down slowly. A smooth strip of skin was revealed amidst the frothy shaving cream.

"Nice and steady, son. There's no rush, just let the blade do the work," I coached Draco. This was my son's very first shave and I couldn't help but be proud of him. He was growing up and while I was worried about the dangers that Draco would face soon, for this moment I could pass along this small but important life skill.

"Why not just use a charm?" Draco asked, hissing as he nicked himself.

"You will never get as smooth a finish with a charm and it can irritate your skin. Every wizard should know how to shave properly," I replied, passing him a bottle of dittany to dab on the wound.

Draco frowned a bit, but kept going. With each successive pass of the razor, his hand grew more certain and his grip eased on the handle. "How does it look?" he asked.

"You did very well for your first try," I praised him, moving forward to wipe the last traces of shaving cream from Draco's face and inspect his work. "Use the lotion in the green bottle there, and you shouldn't get any irritation." I gave my son a rare approving smile. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

"Father…thank you," Draco said softly.

"You're welcome." I merely nodded and swept out of the bathroom.

~Fin


	115. What We've Done

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Representing Slytherin House. Y3. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Negative Pairing] Sirius Black/ James Potter / Word Count: 754

AU- Set just after the Shrieking Shack Incident.

o.o.O.o.o

"Are you completely mental, Siri!?" James shoved his friend hard into the wall of their Dorm. "Luring Snape into the Shrieking Shack on the full moon? Could you be any stupider?"

"What? He deserved it, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. No one would have shed any tears if he'd died." Siri shoved James right back and levelled a vicious look at him. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about killing the slimy snake yourself, I know you have."

"Not at the risk of nearly killing Mooney! You just never think do you, Siri? If he HAD killed Snape, Remus would have been executed. No trial, no hearing, just dead! He trusted us with his secret and you could have gotten him killed." James looked utterly incredulous. "Don't you get it?"

Sirius snorted. "No one would ever have found out. The Headmaster would never have let anything happen to Mooney." He sauntered over to his trunk and grabbed a bottle of butter beer.

"You can't know that," James said, sitting down and letting his head fall forward into his hands. His heart was still racing from when he'd gotten back to the dorm and seen the note from Sirius about what he'd done. He'd always known Siri had an edge to him, but he'd never thought he would stoop to cold-blooded murder. The words floated up into his mind again.

 _Prongs,_

 _Snivellus is finally going to get exactly what he deserves. I told him about the passage. Wait until he sees what's waiting for him._

 _~Padfoot_

James' stomach turned just thinking about it. He lifted his head and looked at Sirius, sitting there as if nothing had happened at all. Sure the Headmaster had played it off as a prank, but James knew better. Sirius had really meant to kill Snape, and while he didn't like the greasy, foul-tempered git, he didn't want him dead.

"Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy, Prongs. It's all fine and the Headmaster made sure Snivellus can't run his mouth, so stop worrying about it," Sirius said.

"Don't worry about it? You tried to kill someone, Pads! Using our friend as the murder weapon. I feel like I don't even know you," James said and stood, feeling honestly sick inside.

"It's just Snape, it's not like he's even a real person. We'd be doing him a favour, putting him out of his misery. I mean, can you imagine having to look in the mirror every day and see that?" Sirius chuckled and crashed back on the bed.

"I can't listen to this," James said and stormed out of the dorm, snagging his cloak as he left. He needed to get away from Sirius and try to clear his head. He loved the other boy like a brother, but there were times he didn't like him very much.

Hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, James' feet took him up to the infirmary. He wasn't sure why, but something inside him was pulling him in that direction. The back corner of the hospital wing was shut off by curtains, and his morbid curiosity drew him back there, peeking through a gap in the screens.

Snape was sitting up against the metal headboard of the cot, arms wrapped around his legs and just staring blankly at the blankets. Tears had dried salty tracks on his face and there was something horribly haunted in his eyes. He was so used to seeing the other wizard's face lined in fury or contempt, but this utter hopelessness made him feel about two inches tall.

He'd saved Snape's life, but somehow instead of feeling like the Slytherin owed him it kind of felt like it was the other way around. Things had gotten worse this year, since the blow up last summer when Lily had walked away from her friend. Sirius was growing crueller, more vicious in his attacks and Snape was getting just as brutal in his retaliations. He couldn't really fault him, since the other student was usually outnumbered three or four to one.

Merlin, everything was such a mess. This was what he'd done, reduced someone else to this lifeless shell of a person. He couldn't be that guy anymore, not if he ever wanted Lily to see him as something more than an arrogant bully. He'd tell Sirius tomorrow that their feud with Snape had to end, or he'd wash his hands of his best friend. It would kill him to do it, but he couldn't see any other choice.

~Fin


	116. I'll Do It Myself, If I Have To

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry.

Prompts: Rescue - The act of saving/being saved from danger or difficulty, Coquelicot – Poppy coloured (reddish orange) & [Speech] "If you say that again I will punch you."

Word Count: 1450

AU – After the Battle of Hogwarts.

o.o.O.o.o

Another morning, another headline splashed across the Prophet, and Hermione's stomach turned as she read the report of the latest attacks in Diagon Alley. Harry refused to even read them anymore, wanting nothing more than to be done with the fighting, the anger, and the rampant hatred, but she wasn't able to turn a blind eye. It had been the cause of more than one row between her and Ron lately, and it was a side of her friend that she wasn't completely comfortable getting to know. There had been almost an excited gleam in his eyes when he read about the razing of Malfoy Manor last August, just before Lucius, Draco, and Narcissa had been released on the strength of Harry and Hermione's combined testimony. She didn't know where the Malfoys had gone in the wake of their exoneration, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what they were dealing with.

Today's article had been about the Parkinsons, Pansy and her mother had been attacked while shopping in the Alley. Her former year-mate was listed in critical condition at St. Mungo's, in the spell damage ward. Something had to be done to stop this madness. This was not what she'd fought and bled for. Tear stung her eyes bitterly as images played across the page in startling detail. The Ministry wasn't doing much to stop it either, and a part of her wondered if secretly they thought the victims were getting just what they deserved. She didn't want to think Kingsley was capable of that kind of vindictiveness, but perhaps he didn't realize just how apathetic the Aurors were being about this growing wave of violence. Finally, she tossed the paper aside in disgust and got up from the table.

"I'm going to head to Diagon Alley, and see if my book order is in." Hermione grabbed her new cloak from the hook behind the door. Madam Malkin had called the colour coquelicot, and the vibrant poppy-red had appealed to her a great deal. It was different, and she was tired of just trying to blend in.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked, looking up from his Quidditch Magazine.

"No, it's just a quick errand. I shouldn't be too long," she said as she headed out the back door.

Repairs to the castle had pushed back the start of the year to the 1st of November. It was a strange feeling to be shopping for her school supplies in October, but she was starting to just give herself permission to embrace the odd feelings she was having these days. It had taken until well past the end of the summer to stop instinctively grabbing for her wand every time she heard a sudden noise or was startled by someone. She hadn't, as of yet, been able to stop carrying around her beaded bag everywhere she went. The tattered little thing had been her lifeline for almost a full year, and she got real anxiety if she left it behind when she ventured outside the relative safety of Grimmauld Place.

A quick spin on her heel, and she apparated to Diagon Alley. She was surrounded by the noise and sights that had once enchanted her as an eleven year old girl, here for the first time. Now, those sounds made the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She huddled deeper into the reddish-orange cloak, as if it could ward off the chill of dread trickling down her spine. Weaving through the crowd, she could feel a strange tension in the air and without conscious thought, her eyes began to scan the crowd. She nearly stopped breathing as she spotted a flash of platinum blonde hair, before it was quickly hidden under a hood. What was Draco Malfoy doing here, of all places?

More worrisome though, was that she wasn't the only one to have spotted him. There was a sudden buzz of whispering and blatant pointing at the hooded figure, clearly trying to hurry out of the main thoroughfare. Concealed in the folds of her coquelicot cloak, Hermione drew her wand and hurried along, choosing a path that would intersect with Malfoy's. She might not like the arrogant git, but no one deserved to be attacked just for walking down the street. Even Pansy Parkinson, pug-faced little troll that she was, didn't deserve to be lying in a hospital bed for simply being on the losing side of the war.

"Protego!" She reached him just as the first curses started to fly. She dragged him behind her, catching only a fleeting glance of his shocked expression when he realized just who had come to his defence. What Hermione had not expected was for the attacks to continue as she stepped into the middle. The mob was screaming for Malfoy's blood, and calling her a traitor for standing in the way of 'justice'. The fury in their faces was terrifying, and reminded her all too much of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You should just let them have me, Granger," Draco said. He was casting noticeably only defence charms and shielding spells, leaving the offensive spells to her. "I'm not worth getting yourself killed over."

"If you say that again I will punch you." Hermione conjured a whole flock of starlings and set them on the mob. "Come on, RUN!" She grabbed Malfoy's hand and they ran for it, their cloaks flaring behind them, ebony and poppy banners.

"This way." Draco dragged her down a narrow passageway that she hadn't even noticed in her panic.

He pulled her behind a heavy stack of old crates and cast a quick notice-me-not ward, before collapsing back against the filthy brick wall beside Hermione. For a long moment there was nothing but the harsh sound of them breathing in the stillness. The mob thundered by their hiding spot, but thankfully no one came their way.

"You shouldn't have done that, Granger," he said finally. He turned his face to look at her, stormy grey eyes looking years older than they had any right to, haunted by the things he'd seen and likely done during the war. "I'm _not_ worth it." A muscle tightened in his jaw, and his expression betrayed that he absolutely believed that.

A twist of her wrist cast _muffilato_ and then Hermione didn't hesitate; she punched him in the arm, as hard as she could.

"Hey!" Draco jerked back, rubbing his arm.

"Don't ever say that. No one deserves what they were going to do to you, NO ONE." She was nearly vibrating with rage. "I didn't put myself through hell for this. I didn't survive everything that happened, just to watch the cycle continue. I won't let this keep happening, even if I have to stop them myself."

Draco was quiet, clearly taken completely aback by her impassioned statements. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to unravel a particularly intriguing puzzle.

"Thank you," he said.

Hermione blinked rapidly, not expecting him to ever thank her. "I didn't do it for thanks."

"Still, thank you for defending me…today and at my trial." He ran a hand through his hair. "I honestly thought I was going to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. I never expected you, of all people, to speak for me. I was a right little prick to you in school and you didn't deserve that. Well, not most of it." He gave her a tiny smile, a glimmer of the old Draco peeking out.

"We were kids, and I'm not unaware that I might have egged you on a bit." She did admit to that much.

"We should probably get out of here, before they circle back to try and find us." Draco pushed away from the wall. "I…would you like to join me and my parents for dinner this evening? I know my mother will want to express her thanks to you personally as well." He looked hesitant.

Hermione felt herself nodding. "I'd like that."

"If you'll trust me, I'll apparate us. The house we're staying at is unplottable, for obvious reasons."

"I do trust you, Malfoy." It was strange just how very true that was. They had saved each other's lives and that worked to forge a strange kind of trust. "I was very sorry to hear about your home."

"I wasn't. After everything that happened there, I'm glad they burned it to the ground," Draco said and reached out, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I like your cloak, by the way. It's very….Gryffindor." He managed to make it sound almost like an insult, and with a boyish smirk he apparated them away.

~Fin


	117. Love is Gravity (Scorbus)

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Prompts: Forbidden love, [Action] Dropping a glass object, Smaragdine – Emerald Green / Word Count: 1003

o.o.O.o.o

Scorpius was sitting against the headboard of his bed, watching as the soft light of predawn crept across the floor of his bedroom. It glittered on the pieces of glass that littered the spaces around the bed, like a sea of diamonds cast out from a careless hand. His lips quirked into a self-satisfied smile, thinking about how something as simple as dropping a remembrall could lead them to this place. His eyes drifted to the wizard still sleeping in his bed, his best friend and son of his father's great rival, Albus Severus Potter.

They were the terror of the Slytherin Quidditch team. They were utterly unstoppable on the pitch and completely unbeatable anywhere else. Everyone had fought so hard to keep them apart, but it was like the inexorable pull of gravity. The more time the spent together, the less they wanted to be apart. He knew that nothing good could come of this, but he really didn't care. Malfoys always got what they wanted. Always.

There was a soft groan from his bed partner as the light reached his face, and a single brilliant smaragdine eye opened in protest. He glared at the light as if its mere existence offended him, and perhaps it did. Albus expressed his disdain in a variety of highly effective expressions that could send even the bravest Gryffindors running for cover. He huffed and rolled over, burying his head under the pillows.

"It's too early," he said, voice muffled by the feather pillows.

"Go back to sleep Asp, we have time yet." Scorpius reached out and brushed his fingertips over a vivid love bite he'd left on Albus' shoulder. Unbidden, his mind drifted to the events of the night before.

o.o.O.o.o

Scorpius was at his desk, frowning over his Arithmancy homework, when a tapping at his balcony drew his attention away from the equations he'd been trying unsuccessfully to balance. He headed over, opened the glass door and smiled, seeing his best friend standing there in the pouring rain, broom in hand. Even soaking wet, his face set in hard lines, he was striking.

"Get in here," he said. Scorpius moved back and let the other wizard inside, glad that his mother had helped add Albus to the wards last summer, without his father's knowledge. It let them visit in secret when they needed to. Most holidays found his friend here more nights than he stayed home. "Did you have another fight with your dad?"

"Mum this time." Albus stripped off his wet outer robes and put them over by the fire to dry. Pausing to pull a little glass ball from the pocket, and set it carefully on the mantel. His aunt Hermione had given it to him for Yule this year.

"You're soaked right through. Did you fly all the way from London?" Scorpius frowned. They had both gotten their apparaition license together, there should be no reason for him to have to fly.

"I needed time to get my head straight." He sat down wearily and let his head fall forward into his hands. "I hate the things they say about you, and our other friends."

Scorpius sat beside him, their knees touching. Despite the dampness of Albus' shirt, he reached out and wrapped an arm around the slighter teen. This close, it was impossible to miss just how brightly Albus' eyes gleamed in the firelight, glittering emeralds rimmed with sooty lashes. If it wouldn't get him hexed within an inch of his life, he'd tell him just how pretty he was. Albus was a little sensitive about things like that.

"It doesn't matter what they think, or say. All the really matters is what you think." Scorpius could handle the dark looks they got whenever they spent time together in public, away from school. There were times when you could literally feel the judgement thundering down on them from a public that couldn't see past the labels of Potter and Malfoy. They were so much more than that. They were Scorpion and Asp, both intelligent and deadly in their own ways. One day they would shatter those one-dimensional images, and then the world would quake before them.

"I know, but she just wouldn't stop about me taking Ariana Millbank to the summer gala. I don't want to take Ariana, or any other witch. She just keeps pushing…" His jaw tightened. Unspoken was that fact that he wanted to take Scorpius.

"Take me then," he said recklessly. It would be a scandal of epic proportions, but right now he just didn't care. A Malfoy did what he wanted, hang the consequences. How many times had his father told him that sometimes you just had to take what you wanted, no matter what stood in the way?

Albus stood suddenly, the violence of the movement knocked over the cloak rack and it hit the mantel. In slow motion, Albus' hand darted out and grabbed the beautiful blown glass remembrall, with reflexes any Seeker would envy. His attention was on the glass ball, making him completely unprepared for Scorpius to stand and catch his lips in their first kiss.

The sound of the remembrall hitting the ground and shattering was distant, lost under the rush of blood in his ears as they crashed together like a storm breaking free. It was everything Scorpius had ever imagined, and yet it was impossible to have anticipated just how quickly he was losing rational thought under the onslaught of feelings and emotions rushing through him. He just couldn't figure out why they'd ever waited this long.

o.o.O.o.o

Scorpius spotted his wand on the nightstand, and then flicked a quick vanishing spell at the broken glass. It had been a night of firsts for them both, but he didn't have a single regret. The passion he felt for his emerald-eyed friend was all consuming and undeniable, and no one would ever force him to let go. A Malfoy always took what they wanted, and they never let go.

~Fin


	118. Where Ambitions Lead

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt:[Word] Aspiration / Word Count: 569

AU: EWE

o.o.O.o.o

Hermione loved words and sometimes, when reading, she'd latch onto a particular word just because something about it seemed special. The summer she'd learned she was a witch, the word she'd been in love with was 'aspiration'. It seemed fitting that the summer she'd discovered she was part of a secret world, she would start thinking about her hopes and ambitions. Magic opened up thousands of possibilities that excited her imagination. The more she read about her new world, the more she let herself dream about all the great things she would do.

Fifteen years and a bloody war later, Hermione was a very different witch than she had been at eleven. She had grown harder, more cynical about the world, but one thing hadn't changed. Her greatest aspiration was still to be the very greatest witch of the age. She remembered the indulgent smile on Professor McGonagall's face when she'd told her that as a girl, during her first visit to Diagon Alley. No one was smiling indulgently at her now. She was the youngest Under Secretary to the Minister of Magic, in more than two centuries. She worked hard, clawed and fought for every single inch of ground she'd gained since coming to work for the Ministry, after completing her NEWTs.

There had been costs, of course. Her first marriage to Ron had died a messy death at the hands of her driving ambitions and blinding focus. Looking back, it was hard to blame him for any of it. They'd married soon after the war and then they'd simply grown apart. It was unfortunate, but at least there had been no children and they could at least meet socially now without too much tension. She regretted hurting him, but she'd never regret choosing her career over her marriage.

"You're looking very serious, darling." Her new husband came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. "You could try and look like you're enjoying yourself. It is your party after all," he teased.

"Just thinking about how I got here." She leaned back against his chest, letting herself smile. Given the turn her life had taken after the war, it wasn't really all that surprising that she'd ended up married to a Slytherin. They lived and breathed ambition and lofty aspirations. Amongst them, her goals were not too foreign.

"I think we all took winding roads to get to where we are now. Though, none more strange than ours." He chuckled a little. "Come Madame Undersecretary…I have a toast to deliver and Kingsley is looking to slip out with his new Mistress at the first opportunity."

Hermione laughed and nodded, turning in his arms and looking into his stormy grey eyes. "No jokes at Harry's expense, please. You know how sensitive he can be about you, even now," she warned.

"Not even a little one, I promise." He winked and slipped her arm through his.

Hermione descended the stairs down to the main ballroom and couldn't help but be please by where her aspirations had taken her. She stood poised to be the next Minister of Magic, she was married to Draco Malfoy, and she was still the Golden Gryffindor Princess from the end of the war. Never in her dizziest adolescent daydreams would she have been able to imagine this, and for just tonight there was nothing else she could wish for.

~Fin


	119. It Takes A Slytherin

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Event] Being re-sorted / Requesting a re-sorting / Word Count: 899

AU: EWE.

o.o.O.o.o

"Thank you, for agreeing to come back a day before the other students," Minerva McGonagall said, as she addressed the students returning to repeat their seventh year. It had been decided that in deference to the horrors of the war, everyone would be repeating their year. It meant a double cohort of first years, but it was preferable to the alternative. She had been hoping to see more of them, but after all they'd been through she could hardly blame those that felt unable to come back to Hogwarts. There had been so much death and destruction that it was completely understandable.

"The last few years have been hard on all of us. Given what all of you lived through last May, I have seen fit to invoke an old tradition of Hogwarts. The simple fact is that living through times of war and surviving severe trauma can fundamentally change us. The House that you were sorted into, as eleven year olds, may not be the House that you will need to recover and move forward from the war. So I am offering all of you the chance to be resorted, if you feel you need to be. There will be no judgement from me or any other member of staff should you choose this option. I hope you all know that my role this year will be to try and help all of you, however I can." She sat the Sorting Hat on the stool and took a long look at their uncertain faces. "Well, I'll leave you all to it." With that Minerva turned on her heel and left the Great Hall.

It was Susan Bones who moved first. She walked up to the stool and looked out at everyone. "I'm still very sure that I'm a Hufflepuff, but I'll hold the hat for anyone that needs it."

"Thanks Susan," Hermione said and walked forward. "I'll go first."

"Are you sure?" Susan looked stunned.

"Very," she said and met the other girl's eyes.

Susan nodded and lifted the battered old Sorting hat, placing it on her head.

::Well, I hate to say I told you so:: The Hat's voice sounded inside Hermione's head.

'But you're going to say it anyway,' Hermione thought wryly. Smug bloody hat.

::Am I to assume that you're ready to let me do my job this time? Or do you have a new House to demand to be sorted into? I must admit, it's been an age since I've had to try and deal with such a stubborn little thing.::

Hermione couldn't help but smile, remembering how hard she'd fought to get into Gryffindor. The House of the famous Albus Dumbledore, a man she'd read all about and idolized for years. The smile faded from her face.

::Ah yes, nothing like growing up to see the tarnish on your heroes. Well, I think you know where you really belong. The glimmers I saw years ago have only gained strength and they are what saw you through the darkness and helped you win a war. Tell me I'm wrong.::

'You're not wrong, and I'm finally ready to admit it.' She knew it would cause an absolute riot, but maybe this was the right time. Minerva had asked her to Head Girl, and in her new House she could work to tear down the old prejudices and soften the rivalries that had existed for so long. They had to do something to make sure that a war like this never happened again. This was the first step.

"Better be, Slytherin!" the Hat pronounced.

There were gasps and furious whispers from the gathered students.

"Enough." It was Draco who spoke, silencing his fellow Slytherins with a look and that single word. The Prince of the Dungeons might be in disgrace in the wider world, but he still had power amongst his housemates. He walked forward, cool eyes unreadable as he offered her a hand. "Welcome to Slytherin. You'll probably regret it, but not because of us."

Hermione slipped her hand into his and stood. "Thank you, Malfoy. The only thing I regret, is not letting the Hat put me there in the first place," she said, her voice lowered so only he could hear her.

The only reaction was his eyebrow lifting a little. "Full of surprises, aren't you?" He grinned then. "So, who's next?" he asked and escorted Hermione over to the Slytherins.

None of the Slytherins went to be resorted, but a handful of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws did. Most of them were quickly resorted into their original Houses, Neville being the most notable of those. There were a few minor shuffles, just nothing as dramatic as Hermione's. After they were all finished, Draco touched Hermione's elbow.

"Come on, we'll take you down to the dorm," he said.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she asked as they walked together, lagging behind the others.

"I'm not sure what to think." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "But I know that no Gryffindor could have gotten Potter through the war in one piece." He looked at her seriously. "Only a Slytherin could have pulled that off, while convincing everyone they were anything but."

Hermione gave Draco a small smile. "I doubt Parkinson will see it that way."

"Probably not." He chuckled and together they continued down into the Dungeons, a new camaraderie blossoming between them.

~Fin


	120. Happy Accidents

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Additional/ Prompt: [Theme]Preparing for a child / Word Count: 1182

AU: Diverges from Canon during the Battle of Hogwarts. Based in my What Worth A Life Universe, where Hermione ends up owing Lucius Malfoy a life debt and they fall in love.

Italics denote flashback.

o.o.O.o.o

March, 2001

Children had not been in Hermione's plan, at least not this soon. She'd married Lucius only a few years ago and was just really finding her feet at the Ministry. At least her position in the Department of Magical Education was secure, and the Department Head absolutely adored her. She was the official liaison between the Ministry and Hogwarts, and working with Minerva to modernize Hogwarts curriculum had been challenging and rewarding.

She'd been feeling off for the last few months and finally gone to see a healer. She didn't tell Lucius, not wanting to worry him any more than he already was. He'd gently chided her for running herself ragged with the new term, and had taken pains to make sure that things at the Manor were as relaxing as possible for her. The healer had done some scans and then smiled brightly at her, before declaring her diagnosis.

" _Congratulations Lady Malfoy, it seems that you're pregnant, about eleven weeks along."_

 _Hermione gaped at him. "But I can't be." Sure her cycle had always been irregular, but she'd never missed a dose of her contraceptives._

" _I assure you, the results are extremely conclusive. I see on your chart that you've been taking a contraceptive potion. You may want to contact the apothecary you've purchased it from, sometimes if the components aren't stored correctly it can render the potion ineffective. It happens every now and then," the healer said sympathetically. "I can tell you the gender, if you'd like to know?"_

Hermione took a deep breath in and walked into her husband's study. Her marriage to the older wizard had been something of a minor scandal, but she didn't regret a minute of it. Narcissa's death and his bitter estrangement from his only child had left him a very changed man, and she'd fallen for his charm and manners. He treated her like the center of his world, and there was something incredibly addictive about that.

"You're home early." Lucius looked up from his papers with a warm smile.

"I went to see Healer Keena," she said hesitantly.

"You told me that you'd been feeling better." Lucius frowned instantly, standing up from his desk and walking over to her.

"I didn't want to worry you," she said. "It's not bad news, just unexpected." She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I'm pregnant."

Lucius blinked and wavered a little on his feet. "Pregnant?" he said, moving a hand to place over her still flat stomach. "They're certain?"

She nodded with a smile. "It's a boy." She covered his hand with hers. "Thomas says I'm about eleven weeks along."

"So just after New Years, while we were in Paris," he said with a grin.

"I'll be due in late September," she said.

"Leave everything to me." He kissed her cheek.

o.o.O.o.o

September, 2001

Being a father again was something Lucius had not honestly anticipated. In marrying Hermione, he'd know about her ambitions and been quite content with the idea of simply growing old with the beautiful, brilliant witch. Other than Severus, he'd never known anyone that could rabidly debate magical theory and history with him. She had bold opinions, but an open mind that he enjoyed challenging whenever he could.

She'd taken to the pureblood arena like coming home and he had no doubt she'd handle motherhood in much the same way. He left the details of work to her, determined not to interfere in that area, unless she was clearly pushing herself too hard. He merely made sure that when she got home every night he was prepared to rub her ankles. The nursery however, that he was taking charge of.

He hadn't been the most…present…father when Draco was a child. It was one of his greatest regrets, and something he hoped to remedy this time. Since the war, he had withdrawn from politics, allowing Hermione to be the public face of the new Malfoy family. He put his time and effort into the founding of a Wizarding orphanage, partnering with Lord Potter and Lord Nott to see it through. Between the three of them, they had agreed that no wizarding child should ever fall into the muggle system and were working to ensure that they would be safe and cared for.

The nursery of the Manor had been closed for a very long time, and he had the House Elves open the rooms to air them out. He charmed the walls from a soft green to soothing blue. His wife was very much a Gryffindor, so he would attempt to find neutral ground when it came to colour choices. They had agreed to no green or red. He ran his hand over the bassinette, one that had cradled Malfoy babies for centuries. It was enchanted to rock softly, and keep the baby safe inside.

He pulled a stuff cat plushie out of his robes and placed it into the bassinette, a little orange tabby. A tiny tribute to his wife's dead familiar that she had lost during the war. She didn't speak about him much, but he knew that she missed the half-kneazle. He had broached the idea of a kitten soon after they were married, but she had simply shaken her head and he'd had the good sense to leave it alone. Now their son would have his very own Crookshanks to watch over him.

He spent the day in the nursery, enchanting magical creatures that would play along the walls, unicorns, phoenixes, hippogriffs and baby dragons. He was so caught up that he didn't realize the time, until his wife came into the nursery behind him.

"Lucius…it's beautiful," she said, coming to stand beside him.

Lucius wrapped his arms around her, moving to stand behind her. "You approve?"

"Completely." She leaned back against him.

His hands rested over her stomach, feeling his son kicking under his touch. She was due very soon, and it was hard to keep a handle on his nerves. For her sake, he did try.

"He's been so active today," she said.

"He's eager to meet the world." He chuckled and kissed her neck. "Almost as eager as we are to meet him."

"I think I've decided on a name," Hermione said. It had been debated a hundred different times over the last few months, but Lucius had been adamant that it was her decision.

"Which name did you choose, love?" se asked.

"Lysander Lucard Malfoy."

"It's perfect, just like he will be." He tightened his grip on her a little. He was worried about her, but he had to believe that she would be ok. Thomas was one of the best Healers in Britain, and he would take good care of her and their son.

"Come and lay down with me before dinner?" she asked.

"Happily." He agreed and led her out of the nursery. Their son would be here soon enough, and he was certain they would both be spending every possible moment here in this room with him. For now, Hermione was his priority and she needed him.

~Fin


	121. Losing Her

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Divorce / Word Count: 280**

 **AU**

o.o.O.o.o

The bedroom felt so empty now. The wardrobe was bare, the chest of drawers now only half full, the bathroom counter bare of his ex-wife's cosmetics. It was strange, but up until she'd taken the last of her clothes, he'd been able to pretend that this was just some horrible nightmare. Harry slipped off his wedding band and reluctantly placed it into the nightstand drawer. Everyone was telling him he needed to accept that it was over. Ginny was never coming back. He'd given in and finally signed the divorce papers last month, after a painful two year separation.

They just wanted different things. She wanted her Quidditch career. Ginny craved the excitement, the travel, and the non-stop events that the team hosted for the rabid media. Harry wanted a family. He wanted to spend quiet nights at home and share meaningful time with friends. He wanted nothing to do with the glitz and glamour of fame. Not anymore. It didn't matter that their parting of ways made sense, it still hurt. It made him feel like a failure. He hadn't been able to hold onto the witch he loved, and she hadn't loved him enough to want to have a family with him.

It felt like everyone was breaking up now. Ron and Hermione's marriage had barely lasted a year before they'd split up. He did find it strange that Ron was having a harder time dealing with Harry's divorce than he had with his own. He tried to smile, but it fell from his lips. Ginny was gone, and she was never coming back. Alone in the darkness of Grimmauld Place, Harry wept for what he had lost.


	122. Risk & Reward

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt:** **[Speech] "I'm sorry, I didn't make myself clear - I'm not asking," / Word Count: 1031**

 **AU – Canon Divergence after Battle of Hogwarts & Some liberties in Half-Blood Prince**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

It was a calculated risk, but sometimes the rewards possible warranted some personal stakes. A night of boasting over brandy ended with Draco needing to back up his impressive statement that he could any witch he wanted. Bloody Potter had just HAD to open his mouth and lay down a challenge in the form of a question.

" _Even Hermione?" Harry's bright green eyes were practically sparkling with contained mirth. "I'd pay a thousand galleons to see that happen."_

What in the name of Merlin had he been thinking? Hermione-sodding-Granger was the most eligible bachelorette in Wizarding Britain these days. She was the darling of the Ministry and even Rita Skeeter seemed to have stopped her smear campaign, right about the time she'd taken an unannounced sabbatical from writing. If Draco had any galleons left in his trust fund, he'd have bet a stack of them that Granger had done something to the reporter to prompt her sudden absence from the pages of the Prophet.

The stupid bet with Potter was the reason he was here tonight, in his very finest dress robes and noticeably unaccompanied. Normally his mother attended these charity dinners, but she had been delighted to see him taking an interest in philanthropy. Tonight's dinner was attempting to fund the new wolfsbane initiative that Granger had been battling tooth and nail for in the Wizengamot. They had ultimately agreed to allow it, but stipulated that this trial run would need to be entirely funded by public donations. It had been an underhanded attempt to set the project up to fail. Draco had managed to convince his parents to throw their full support behind this particular endeavour, both for the good press it would buy them…and the goodwill it would earn him personally with the witch in question.

He had a deadline of next month in which to convince Granger that he was boyfriend material. That kind of time crunch necessitated him reaching deep into his bag of 'Slytherin Tricks', as Potter liked to call them. Now, that was a strange sort of friendship in and of itself. He and Potter had found each other in the aftermath of the trials, and gotten completely shit-faced together. They'd woken up nearly two days later, passed out in someone's garden together with a witch he still couldn't quite remember the name of. After that, they'd had a standing arrangement where if one of them had a bad week, they'd go and get drunk together. As coping mechanisms went it was really not the best, but it seemed to work.

"Draco, I wasn't expecting you this evening." Hermione looked almost gobsmacked as she looked at him.

"Mother was feeling a bit under the weather," he lied smoothly. "We've been quite excited about this new initiative of yours. I felt that I should come and speak to you about possibly offering to help cover any shortfall in the programme's funding."

"I…you would?" She blinked owlishly at him.

"Absolutely. Perhaps you could join me on the terrace for a moment and we could talk about it?" Draco was pulling out all his charm, trying to convince her that he was worlds removed from the boy she remembered from school and the war.

"I suppose." She very hesitantly took the arm he offered and walked with him outside into the warm night air.

"My father has authorized me to put the full backing of the Malfoy Foundation behind this project of yours. It's too important to let the Wizengamot kill it in its cradle, so to speak." Draco said once they were alone, purposefully relaxing a little as if he had been playing a part in the dining room.

"I couldn't possibly accept…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't make myself clear - I'm not asking," Draco cut her off, turning to meet her eyes. Malfoys never asked, they simply did as they pleased and the whole world just dealt with the results. "I've already made arrangements for the funds to be transferred to the project vault in the morning."

"Why do you care about werewolves?"

"I was nearly one of them," Draco confided in her. "In our sixth year, that was part of what he had threatened me with. If I failed, he'd kill my mother and hand me over to Greyback." A shadow of remembered pain passed through his grey eyes.

"I had no idea." Hermione reached over and touched his arm, a look of abject horror on her face.

"It wasn't exactly something I was keen to share, obviously." He gave her a small smile. "So, you can understand why this initiative hits fairly close to home for me."

"I'd be very happy to accept your help in this," Hermione said, a warm expression on face.

"Could I perhaps take you to dinner later this week? We could talk about the infrastructure you'll need to get this rolled out before the New Year, and I could maybe get a list of other donors that aren't in attendance tonight. People that might want to help, but would prefer to remain anonymous."

"I'd like that. Are you free on Thursday?" she suggested.

"Thursday sounds perfect, shall I pick you up at 7?" He raised his eyebrows a little in question.

"It's a date." She smirked then and winked at Draco, leaning close. "Remind Harry that the next time he uses me as a bet, I'll turn him into a tea cozy." She pulled back with a smile on her face that said she'd been manipulating Draco just as surely as he'd tried to manipulate her.

"How long have you known about the bet?" He grinned, suddenly finding her infinitely more interesting that he had even two days ago. Clever little minx, using it to secure funding for her charity.

"A girl has to keep some secrets to herself." She grinned mischievously.

"My Lady, it's been a pleasure. I do hope we can scam Potter again in the future." He picked her hand up and kissed it, while holding her gaze the entire time. Cunning and guile from the Gryffindor Princess…who'd ever have expected that? Draco couldn't wait to see what other surprisingly Slytherin traits she possessed. 


	123. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Representing Slytherin House. HoH Entry. Category: Additional / Prompt: Christmas / Word Count: 1082**

 **AU – Canon Divergence after Battle of Hogwarts. (I know, I know, it's my favourite divergence point, but such is life lol)**

 **o.o.O.o.o**

It had been a hellish week at the Auror's office, and Harry was giving serious thought to packing it in and just telling them where they could stuff their rules and regulations. He flooed home to Grimmauld Place and froze as he stepped out of the fireplace. For half a second he actually thought that he'd flooed into the wrong house by mistake. The dark dingy atmosphere of the old seat of the Black Family had been banished in a wave of Christmas cheer that he honestly hadn't seen since his days back at Hogwarts.

"What…"

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

A warm voice came from his right, and he turned to look at Hermione. Her skin was tanned from being away in the blistering sun of Australia. She usually spent every December down in Brisbane with them, visiting and making sure they had everything they needed. The two British dentists had elected to stay there after their memories were restored, having grown to love living down under. Harry had honestly not expected to see her until after the New Year.

"What are you doing here?" He gaped, at a loss for words.

"This is our first Christmas together, you didn't really think I'd miss it?" She gave him the look that meant she was seriously questioning his intelligence at the moment. It was one he knew well.

"But your parents…"

"Are thrilled we finally 'figured it out'." She laughed, making little quotation marks in the air with her fingers. She went over and unbuttoned his work robes, smiling up at him. "Why don't you go and get cleaned up, and dinner should be just about ready by the time you finish." She leaned up and stole a quick kiss.

Harry smiled and pulled her in close for a longer kiss. There was something so…easy about being with Hermione. It was this sense of rightness that had never been there with any other witch, and he'd tried more than his share looking for that elusive 'IT' that people always talked about. Hermione pushed him away with an admonishing look, and sent him off to get cleaned up.

After the war, they'd all had a lot of personal demons to exorcise. Ron and Hermione's relationship had been like a whiz-bang; loud, fast, and over quickly. He and Gin had held on a bit longer, before realizing they just wanted and needed different things. There had been a lot of tears between all of them in those first rough years. They'd all been through rebound after rebound, until the group all seemed to start settling down. Ron had actually been the first to make the leap, getting married to Pansy Parkinson of all witches. Ginny had married a Seeker from Spain, and they were currently living in Madrid.

It had taken Harry months to work up the nerve to ask Hermione out on a date, after he realized what had been staring him in the face all these years. That first date had been a disaster, awkward and full of them tripping over their words, well right up until they'd said goodnight. He'd decided that kissing her was worth getting hexed for. He stolen a kiss and rather than rearrange his innards, because he knew she could, she'd returned his bold kiss. After that, things just progressed naturally. They'd been dating for nearly eight months now, and he felt like the luckiest bloke alive.

He got cleaned up and detoured upstairs to his bedroom to get something first. The plan had been to give her this once she returned from Australia. Well, she was here now and it was almost Christmas. Just a few hours left actually. It was the perfect time, he just had to keep it together until the clock chimed midnight.

o.o.O.o.o

The old grandfather clock in the hallway announced the arrival of Christmas Day, and Harry tightened his arms around Hermione. She was curled against his chest, the two of them listening to Christmas Carols on the wireless, and nursing steaming mugs of hot cocoa. Dinner had been wonderful, and after dessert he'd convinced her to dance with him a little before they settled down to wait out the clock.

"Happy Christmas, love," Harry whispered into her ear.

"Happy Christmas, Harry." She turned her head and kissed him, just a delicate brush of lips.

"I have something for you." Harry held up a neatly wrapped little box. It had green paper, and a big red bow.

"Yours are all under the tree. You can pick one to open if you want." Hermione stroked her fingers over the perfect bow.

"I'll wait until you open yours," Harry said.

Hermione gave him a bit of a look and then untied the bow, opening the box. Her smile slipped off her face as she discovered another box inside. A velvet ring box. She opened it, to reveal a brilliant blue sapphire, ringed with diamonds.

"Hermione Jean Granger, will you do me the great honour of being my wife?" he asked her, hoping that she said yes. He wasn't sure that he'd ever seen Hermione struck so speechless before. Then he realized she was crying. "No, don't cry…I'm sorry, it's too soon isn't it…Merlin I'm such an idiot…"

"Harry, stop…no. You're not an idiot, well not all the time, and…I…" She sat up and turned so she could look at him. She looked deep into his eyes and took a steadying breath. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

Harry pulled her down and kissed her soundly. "This is the best Christmas I've ever had," he said as their lips parted.

"Are you going to put the ring on my finger?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Gladly." He took the ring, and slipped it onto her left hand. "I promise, I'll make you the happiest witch in the world."

"I already am." She stroked his cheek and reached for his hand, guiding it down to rest over her stomach. "We may need to bump up the wedding though."

Harry blinked at her stupidly for a moment and then it hit him like a bludger to the face. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes. I was going to tell you in the morning, but…now seems like the perfect time."

"We're going to have a baby…" he said in utter wonder. Hermione laid her hands over his and nodded.

"Our baby."

That Christmas, Harry got everything he'd ever wanted. Hermione had brought love, joy, and hope to his life. There was nothing more he could ever ask for.


End file.
